


Dolor Retractatur

by longrandomword



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Child Abuse, F/F, F/M, Female Draco Malfoy, Female Harry Potter, Femslash, Forced Bonding, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Other, Slash
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-26
Updated: 2018-04-20
Packaged: 2018-05-09 12:28:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 27
Words: 75,754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5539979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/longrandomword/pseuds/longrandomword
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Voldemort has placed a curse on Harriet Potter, and no one can know. No one can know the way the Dursleys treat her; no one can know the reason behind their treatment. <br/>Meanwhile, the Dursleys have left Surrey and the blood wards have fallen. Harry is forced to enter a bond with an unwilling Potions Master, and her secrets are thrown desperately into jeopardy</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Curses we bear

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own these characters, but I really wish I did. This has not been Beta'd so please excuse the errors I make. Sarwolfstarbuck is in the process of fixing things up.
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't own these characters, but I really wish I did. This has not been Beta'd so please excuse the errors I make. Better yet, lemme know if you find errors (look at me, being a slave driver;P).
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

For the fourth new moon in a row, Harriet Potter lay curled on the floor, shaking from the pain that would develop and recede just as rapidly. Her teeth were clenched from the effort of not crying out, despite it being completely unnecessary. She had warded and placed silencing charms around the room in which she now lay so that no one would hear or disturb her. Perhaps she clenched her teeth out of habit - the last two times this had happened, she had been at the Dursley's and crying out would have earned her another black eye – or worse.

The first time this had happened, she had been with Voldemort, and she simply refused to give him the satisfaction of hearing her scream.

This would only last another half hour, she thought desperately, stealing a quick glance at her watch. She regretted her decision, as glancing down at her wand arm alerted her to another part of herself that was screaming – although rather silently - in agony.

She mentally reassured herself that the pain would be gone in a second; and indeed, the blistered, charred flesh of her arm – originally a burn of some sort – was healing rapidly, skin cells stacking in uneven layers to form an ugly, discoloured scar, but thankfully, a brief reprieve from the pain.

She was probably quite the sight, she thought bitterly to herself. A canvas of bruises and cuts and scrapes. A canvas that had areas of itself scraped mostly clean only to be painted over again in new and different shades of pain.

She hated the Dursleys with a cold fury for the years of abuse and neglect that they had subjected her to, but she hated Voldemort far, far more. She hated him for killing her parents, and for killing Cedric, and for killing all the other faceless individuals that had been sacrificed on the altar of a war she had not been alive to witness. She hated him for taking away her chances at a normal, happy life.

Right now, she hated him for the curse he had placed on her four months ago – the curse that was the reason she now lay in a pool of her own blood and vomit and had done, every new moon, for the past four months.

She shouldn't dwell on the curse – it only increased her hatred for the snake-like man. Hatred wasn't healthy, she told herself. Hatred turns inward and festers inside the soul – it drives you toward solitude and bitterness. It turns you into the type of person of whom Albus Dumbledore would not feel proud, the type of person that your parents would not be proud to call their daughter.  
She had committed to making her parents proud after seeing their faces in that graveyard.

It was in the graveyard that they had told her they were proud of her, but for what, she didn't know. Where was her Gryffindor bravery now? It seemed to be a flighty trait, vacating her when she most needed it. 

That infernal hat had been wrong. Bravery was only truly bravery if it remained while you were at your most terrified. She wasn't afraid of Voldemort so facing him wasn't truly brave. Stupid, perhaps, but certainly not brave. Now she was terrified. Not of the pain, as she had long ago forgotten her terror of pain. It frightened her, but not as much as being /found out/.

She hid, like a coward, because she did not want them to know how truly weak she was. She couldn't even fight off an oversized muggle. But mostly she feared that someone would discover how deeply deserved her punishments were. She was incapable of controlling herself to be good long enough to avoid being punished over the summers.

She would have to work so much harder to make her parents proud.

 

She stifled a gasp as her shoulder dislocated and used all of the strength of her uninjured arm to try to force the joint back into its socket. She definitely didn't want to have to deal with a shoulder that remained out of joint after the curse was no longer active. Besides, the rapid healing that the curse allowed would greatly reduce the pain once her shoulder was 'relocated', but that meant she had to do it now.

She fought against the dark spots that were appearing behind her eyes. She forced her eyelids to remain open. It wouldn't be the first time she had passed out from the pain. She couldn't afford to now. More bone breaks were coming and she couldn't afford to let them heal unset.

XXX

Severus Snape was agitated. Albus really did have the worst timing possible. He was in the middle of the most volatile stage of brewing Dreamless Sleep for Poppy when Albus fire-called him. He decided to walk to the headmaster's office, instead of going by floo to allow time for his anger to fester.   
Maybe, if he was lucky, the foolhardy brats would give him a few reasons to vent his frustrations. Hopefully Gryffindors.

He strode up the corridor, robes billowing and seas of children parting, wide eyed and terrified at his glare. He smirked behind his curtain of hair – best not let them see him smile. It would ruin his carefully built reputation.

No one could say that the dungeon bat didn't have a flair for the theatrics. They wouldn't say he had the flair, either, but really, that was more out of fear of the man than a lack of honesty.

He restored his mask of impassivity as he neared the gargoyle and spoke the password – "Acid pops"— inwardly hoping that Dumbledore's teeth would rot from all the sugar he consumed as the stairs revolved slowly upwards.

 

"My dear man," Dumbledore beamed, "I hope I haven't inconvenienced you, but the situation is rather urgent. Lemon drop?"

Snape glared and Dumbledore set the box on his desk looking mildly amused.

"What is it, Albus? I have things to do and limited time in which to do them," Snape snarled.

There wasn't much sincerity behind the complaint. Albus was a friend, and besides, Snape was intrigued. Dumbledore's eyes lacked their usual twinkle. Something serious was happening.

"The Dursleys have disappeared." Dumbledore stated, looking sombre.

Severus’ thoughts leapt immediately to the Death Eaters, but as if reading his mind, Dumbledore went on: “There are no signs of foul play, Severus. They appear to have left by choice.”

Severus raised an eyebrow and resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "’Why is their decision to vacation relevant?"

"Let me clarify; they've left the country. Permanently." Seeing that the Potions Master's eyebrow remained raised, Dumbledore continued. "Severus, the wards have fallen. Harriet Potter has lost her blood protection."

Snape began to pace; of course it was the Potter brat. She had a talent for finding herself in unfortunate situations. She was probably the reason for the Dursleys taking flight. She was an insufferable and arrogant piece of work – just like her father. 

"She will just have to remain at Hogwarts. It really isn't all that complicated, Albus." Severus's pacing belied his words.

"You expect her to remain in the castle for the rest of her life? What of the prophecy? She can't face him without the blood protection." Dumbledore replied in consternation. "She needs it, Severus. I just don't know how to protect her." Dumbledore looked, for once, every bit as old and frail a he truly was.

"Give her a personal body guard. Merlin knows she already receives special treatment. Perhaps, while you're at it, you could train her in the dark arts and actually give her a fighting chance," Snape griped sarcastically. "Better yet, use the Fidelius Charm. That worked so well for her mother, didn't it?"

"Severus, ENOUGH!" Dumbledore boomed. "I have no intention of hiding her. The Fidelius Charm is unsuitable. She needs, for lack of a better phrase, portable protection." The twinkle was back but Snape was too busy pacing to notice.

"Blood protection and Bond protection. They're the most effective forms," Snape stated. It was obvious.

Dumbledore beamed and nodded "Precisely, my dear man. Blood protection isn't an option. The last remaining relatives she has have vacated the continent. We will try to locate the Dursleys before the summer in order to renew her blood protection but finding them is seeming increasingly impossible, and we cannot afford to leave her unprotected.” Dumbledore spoke crisply.  
“That leaves us, as you so wisely put it, Bond protection.” Dumbledore looked pointedly at Snape, "She would require a Bond with someone of proficient magical skill, both dark and light. As you mentioned earlier, she needs to be trained in dark magic to stand a chance at defeating Voldemort."

Snape stopped pacing, Dumbledore was twinkling at him out of the corner of his eye. His stomach dropped, he knew what the old man was implying. Were his debts not yet paid? Surely, he didn't have to force himself to endure more misery.

"No Albus," he croaked; "I've spent my life paying for my mistake, surely Lily would have..." Severus's voice died away, the air caught in his too-tight chest. Of course she wouldn't have forgiven him. His betrayal was unforgivable. "Please, Albus."

Obsidian eyes sought out blue pleadingly. Dumbledore, for a moment, seemed to shift uncomfortably in his seat, but then the moment passed and Dumbledores eyes filled with conviction.   
Snape knew he would lose. He always lost to Dumbledore.


	2. Praesidio Vinculum

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello wonderful people! Please let me know what you think? This chapter hasn't been beta'd yet so please excuse my appalling grammatical skills. I don't own the characters but I seriously wish I did. Many thanks to Sarwolfstarbuck for being my beta and thanks to JK Rowling for this fabulous world she created.

Chapter 2

Praesidio Vinculum

"What bond did you have in mind, Albus?" Snape sighed, defeated. Dumbledore really was a piece of work. He pretended that he didn't know how to help the Potter brat and manipulated Snape into giving the solution. Did Albus really think this burden would weigh any less just because he let Snape think it was his own idea? Snape was not so easily fooled. "Manipulative old coot," he mumbled.

"What was that?" Albus questioned, smiling benignly.

"Answer the question, old man." Snape hissed "My patience wanes."

Mock hurt flashed across Albus's features – it infuriated Snape that Albus could always call his bluff. Albus was one of very few who truly knew Severus. He closed his eyes, fearing the answer.

"Praesidio Vinculum."

There was a sharp intake of breath from a few of the portraits that hung from the walls of the headmaster's office. Phineas Nigellus snorted and smirked, his eyes still closed in a parody of sleep. Severus began to massage his temples. It did nothing to prevent the oncoming migraine.

 

That particular bond was powerful and effective but it was a life bond. Snape wouldn't be able to leave the Potter brat even if the war did end. The rite hadn’t been invoked in decades, because life bonds could have unexpected consequences. It was not fully understood and had come to be considered more myth than fact in recent years.

"As I am sure you know, the bond is strengthened with a strong emotional connection. You need to overcome the animosity you share for it to have any effect at all."

"You expect me to play nice with Potter for the rest of my life?" Severus snarled, gripping the back of the chair that he usually sat in, his knuckles turning white and his eyes, impossibly, darkening.

"It's time that you let go of childish school grudges. Harry is not her father."

"I can assure you, Albus, the hatred I hold for her is entirely her own. She is an arrogant, foolhardy, insufferable brat who goes prancing into dangerous situations with little regard for the rules." Snape hissed in a sibilant whisper.

Dumbledore gazed at Snape, unblinkingly; "You see only what you wish to see." he said sadly. "I see far more of her mother in her. She is wise and infinitely kind. She is hardworking and polite to a fault. Why do you insist on finding James in her?"

Snape ground his teeth together to avoid shouting at the man. Dumbledore asserted that Severus only wanted to see the bad in the Potter girl, but the hypocrite only ever saw the good in her, granting her every lenience. "When do you intend for us to bond?" Snape asked, diverting the topic as swiftly as possible. Alas, the new topic was not much better than the former.

"Ah, yes. Quite right, that is what we should be discussing." Dumbledore nodded. "I believe that the sooner this is done, the better. Within the next day or two perhaps? I'll get a message to Harry tomorrow and discuss things with her. But the morning is only a few hours away! I believe it is time for us to rest. Good night, Severus."

Dumbledore stood and Snape, knowing himself to be dismissed, exited the Headmaster's office, a bitter taste in his mouth.

XXX

Harry woke with a start, completely disorientated. She was desperately cold, and her body ached all over because she had fallen asleep on a hard, chilled surface. This definitely didn't feel like her cupboard. The nauseating smell of blood and vomit reached her nostrils and she retched.

She fumbled for her glasses and swept a strand of long, wavy, red hair out of her eyes before placing her glasses on her face. The grubby, abandoned classroom with its cold, flagstone floors came into focus and Harry gasped.

Had she fallen asleep or passed out? Either way, she hadn't gone back to her Common Room yet, and her dorm mates would surely notice. She didn't want them asking her questions about where she had been.

She spotted her wand and cast a few cleaning charms on the floor and then pulled on her clothes and the invisibility cloak. Checking the room to make sure that she hadn't left any evidence, she walked as quickly as the cloak would allow to the door, removed her wards and headed for Gryffindor tower.

It was 5 o'clock in the morning by the time she got back so she slipped past the closed hangings of her four-poster bed and feigned sleep until the others began to stir.

Hermione's voice broke the silence and Harry smiled to herself. She had missed that voice. They hadn't been back at Hogwarts for long; less than a week if memory served, and Harry's heart swelled with joy at the knowledge that she had nearly nine months before she would have to go back to the Dursleys.

"Are you awake, Harry?" Hermione's voice croaked groggily.

Harry feigned a yawn and stuck her hand through the hangings to wave at Hermione. A few seconds later, Harry's hangings were opened and a sleepy Hermione crawled into her bed. Harry lifted the covers and Hermione lay against her, snuggling her head into the soft, red hair against Harry's neck.

Harry shivered from a mixture of pleasure and guilt as her traitorous hands wound their way around Hermione's resting form. "The others are still asleep?"

Hermione nodded and hummed in accent.

Harry relaxed a bit, she could enjoy this guilty pleasure a little while longer. She breathed in the scent of Hermione's hair and closed her eyes. Her heart ached because she knew how wrong her feelings were. If Vernon were to see her now, he would probably kill her. He very nearly had the last time she let her freakishness be seen. It seemed she was destined to defy the Dursley’s every concept of normalcy.

The worst part was that, to Hermione, this didn't mean nearly as much as it did to Harry. Hermione was just being friendly and affectionate, which was already more than Harry deserved. Harry, on the other hand, although she tried her level best to control her emotions, had intentions that were far from pure.

It wasn't just Hermione. There were other girls that Harry was attracted to; Hermione just happened to be an affectionate girl that was all too comfortable with touching Harry, and Harry let her. Now the lines were being blurred and Harry was becoming increasingly confused about how she felt about Hermione and how Hermione felt about her.

Harry's hazel eyes, that so closely resembled her fathers, flickered open and she moved to rub the sleep out of her eyes. Hermione lay across her, her legs tangled in Harry's and her bushy brown hair tickled Harry's face.

Harry giggled and shoved Hermione awake. "Breakfast time sleepyhead, Ron won't forgive us if we make him miss breakfast."

Hermione groaned and burrowed her head into the pillow.

"Oh look, the love-birds are awake!" Lavender crooned. Harry stiffened at the words and Hermione extricated herself from Harry's covers.

Hermione laughed "They're just joking Har, don't look so shell-shocked."

"Yeah, promise! I'm just joking around!" Lavender said, pulling back the hangings. Harry smiled weakly at them and got out of bed.

 

They headed down to the Great Hall with Ron for breakfast. Ron put his arm over their shoulders and Harry forced herself not to flinch at the unexpected contact when she saw that it was just Ron. 

Adjusting after the summer had always been difficult. 

They reached the Gryffindor table and sat; Ron immediately piling bacon, sausages and scrambled eggs onto his plate. Harry buttered her toast and reached for the strawberry jam, but decided against it. After the summer, her stomach rebelled at anything too rich. Her thoughts were interrupted when a large barn owl landed in front of her and thrust out its leg.

She began to untie the parchment from the owl's leg when Ron elbowed her in her side. She stifled a gasp, her ribs were badly bruised from the summer, but she had every injury well-hidden with glamour Charms.

"Wha wong wif Sna'e" Ron said around a mouthful of food. Harry, who was well versed in Ron’s ‘full-mouth-speech’, glanced up at the staff table and, sure enough, Professor Snape was glaring daggers at her. Harry looked away quickly and continued to fumble with the envelope.

She fed the owl a piece of bacon and it looked at her haughtily before flying off.

She turned the envelope over to see thin, slanting writing.  
"Who’s it from?" Hermione asked curiously.

"Dumbledore." Harry said distractedly, "He wants me to meet him after breakfast."

"Oh no!" Hermione gasped, Harry looked up questioningly "You'll miss History of Magic!"

Harry dropped the parchment and grabbed her face in mock despair "What ever shall I do?!" she said sarcastically. Ron chortled and bits of scrambled egg went flying.

"Anyway, I better be off, don't wanna be late for the headmaster." She shoved her uneaten toast aside. She wasn’t hungry anyway.

"Ugh, look who is headed our way." Ron whispered, rolling his eyes, "None other than the princess of Slytherin. Oh, and look, she's flanked by her cronies. She's too frightened to face us on her own, so she'd rather scare us off with their combined stupidity." He went on.  
Dean snorted into his pumpkin juice.

Harry's hand moved instinctively for her wand.  
"Ah, if it isn't the mud-blood, the weasel and scar-face." Draconian Malfoy sneered, her grey eyes narrowed in distain.

"Just ignore her!" Hermione hissed, "She's not worth the effort."

Harry's hand gripped her wand tighter and every muscle was tensed for a fight.

"Don't let her breathe on you, Potter. She'll infect you with her filth. Ah yes, I forgot. It's already too late."

The air crackled with magic and Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle were flung a few metres into the air before falling to the ground in a groaning heap of bodies.

Harry's eyes widened in shock and fear, the grip on her wand slackening. She hadn't meant to; she hadn't even spoken a spell but she knew there would be trouble.

"Potter!" Snape's voice sneered, "Are you utterly incapable of controlling yourself?"

Harry gulped, and her chocolate coloured eyes found Snape's boots but then she remembered that not showing eye contact was a sign of disrespect here. It usually took her a while to adjust after returning from the Dursley's. The concept had baffled her in her first year.

*** 

It had been her very first potions lesson and Snape had questioned her with the air of a man looking for an excuse to punish her. She was well used to people looking for excuses to hurt her. Indeed, the Dursleys took great joy from it. 

It was the third question the man had asked that she hadn’t known the answer to, and she could barely suppress her quake of fear, her eyes glued to her desk.  
“I-I don’t know sir” she repeated.

“Clearly, fame isn’t everything.” Snape sneered. The Slytherins snickered. 

“Ten points from Gryffindor for disrespect. Next time, Miss Potter, I expect you to look at me when I speak to you.” He snarled. Harry’s eyes had moved immediately to his shoes. 

XXX

The next time he had spoken to her, she had been in the corridor, on her way to the bathroom between classes. 

She had almost walked into him in her haste to get to Herbology on time. His smooth, deep voice had rent the silence with a snarled “Potter!” and Harry’s face, still downcast had contorted into a rictus of terror. Her eyes had darted to his shoes. This Professor wanted her to look at him when he spoke to her.

“What are you doing out of class?” He had asked, command in his voice. 

She had shuffled from foot to foot, steeling herself to speak. “I-I needed the ba-bathroom, sir.”

“Did I or did I not tell you to look at me when I spoke to you?” he had said stiffly, over enunciating ‘look at me’ in that same hard tone.

Her heart thumped painfully. She was looking at him; her eyes hadn’t left his shoes. He couldn’t mean-   
No, surely not. She wasn’t supposed to look him in the eye. That would be the height of disrespect. 

Freaks like her didn’t have the right to look adults in the eye. 

“Potter!” Snape warned and she trembled. This may be a trick but she knew she couldn’t directly disobey an order. So, hesitantly, her eyes slid upwards to meet the Professor's.

His eyes were so black that she could barely distinguish the iris from the pupil. There was so much hatred in their depth that she couldn’t sustain her gaze, which dropped to the sallow skin of his chin. She didn’t dare drop them lower than that even though every part of her being was screaming to look away.

“Get to class, Potter” he had hissed and she had turned tail and ran.

**End Flashback**

Harry slowly brought her eyes up to meet Snape's, her chest heaving with stuttered breaths. "I-I didn't mean t-"

"I do not care what your intentions were Miss Potter, it's your actions that astound me. Twenty points from Gryffindor for that display of immaturity and five points for your feeble attempts at excuses." Snape sneered over that greasy great nose.

Harry's eyes hardened into a glare that she instantly hoped Snape would not notice and her eyes darted to the ground once more. "Yes sir." she mumbled, tucking her wand into her robes.

"Malfoy, Crabbe, Goyle." Snape said glancing at the three who were groaning in feigned agony as they got up "I believe madam Pomfrey should take a look at you. Come with me." Snape swept out of the Great Hall in a billow of black robes followed by three, smirking Slytherins.

"That was totally unfair! Twenty-five points for accidental magic that knocked over a few idiots – which was awesome by the way – is way too high. He didn't even take a single point off them and they started it!" Ron said, incredulous, his blue eyes blazing to match his fiery coloured hair.

"That was a bit excessive." Hermione frowned. "Anyway, you'd better be off. Professor Dumbledore has already left."

The three of them glanced up at the heads table to see Dumbledore’s empty seat. 

Harry walked hurriedly out of the Great Hall, food untouched, moving as swiftly as possible to the Headmasters office. She reached the Gargoyle out of breath and pulled out the parchment so she could read out the password – "Acid Pops".

Harry stumbled off the spiral staircase and steadied her breath before rapping softly against door.

"Enter" Dumbledore's voice called.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rates, reviews and comments are always appreciated.   
> LRW xxx


	3. The Bond

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This a replacement chapter because I'm slowly working through editing everything.
> 
> I would greatly appreciate reviews! 
> 
> Thanks and I hope you enjoy!

Chapter 3:  
The Bond  
Good morning Harry. I trust your first week has been pleasant" Dumbledore twinkled over half-moon spectacles.

"Yes, thank you sir." Harry replied nodding. Anything is pleasant in comparison to the Dursleys; even Potions lessons with Snape Harry thought wryly.

"You may take a seat." Dumbledore said gesturing to one of the two armchairs in front of his desk. 

"Can I offer you some tea Harry? Or perhaps a lemon drop?"

"Yes, thank you sir." Harry reached for the outstretched sweet tin. "Tea would be great too." She finished.

"Two sugars and a milk if I remember correctly?" Dumbledore glanced up questioningly as he prepared the pot.

"Yes, thank you sir."  
A long silence followed as Dumbledore prepared the tea, and Harry shifted uncomfortably.

"Uhm, sir? I mean no disrespect, but what did you need me for? Its only, I’m missing a lesson with Professor Binns and…” She trailed off hesitantly. 

"Not at all" Dumbledore said, passing the cup and saucer. "You are quite right, I did call you here for a purpose; I shall explain the moment Severus has arrived."

"Snape?!" Harry yelped jumping out of her seat and spilling hot tea over her lap. "Why is he coming?"

"Professor Snape, Harry." Dumbledore admonished.  
As if summoned by Dumbledore's words, Snape stalked into the office.

"Excuse my lateness headmaster" Snape drawled. "Potter has been flinging my Slytherins into walls and I was escorting them to the infirmary."

Harry stiffened and cast a quick glance over to see Dumbledore's reaction. There was none, and she relaxed imperceptibly. 

Snape was offered a seat, some tea and a lemon drop.  
He accepted the seat.

"Now that we are all present, I shall begin." Dumbledore straightened and then began to talk.  
"Harry, the news I have isn't good." Dumbledore looked sombre. "The Dursleys have left England and we are yet to locate them. It appears the blood wards have fallen."

Bad news? This was the best news Harry had ever heard. "I don't have to go back" she said breathlessly, hope spreading warmth through her chest.

Snape glowered. The ungrateful brat was pleased about something that would utterly destroy Snape's already miserable life. She was probably pleased about the independence she thought she'd gain. Potter was about to realise how much she would miss her pampered lifestyle – that thought was the only thing that left Snape with a modicum of happiness. 

"If they are located, then you will return, but until then you require an alternate form of protection."  
Harry's face fell and something akin to fear flashed through her eyes.

Snape failed to notice the fear but he sneered at her disappointment.

"There are two forms of protection that would be appropriate; blood protection and bond protection. As the Dursleys are your last remaining blood relatives, that leaves us with bond protection. This Harry, is where Snape comes in."

"B-bond protection?" Harry desperately hoped that the phrase had an entirely different meaning to the one she thought it did. She couldn't bear the thought - not with Snape.

Snape massaged his temples. The girl was an imbecile.

"That's not like marriage, is it?" Harry asked.

Maybe not so much of an imbecile after all Snape thought.  
"Well that's the gist of it Harry, but not exactly." Albus began. "You will be bond mates but the bond can be filial, paternal or companionate, and yes, it can also be romantic."

Harry winced at the last.

Snape's anger at Albus' words descended like a dark cloud. Their bond would never be any of those things. Potter would be lucky if it didn't end in murder.

Seeing the two reactions, Dumbledore rushed on. "The bond I feel is adequate is Praesidio Vinculum which quite literally means the Bond of Protection. I am afraid that it is a life bond but it is most effective."

Life bond? Harry swallowed back bile and swayed, struck dizzy at the words. It seemed that she was never going to be given a chance at happiness. Tears stung her eyes but she blinked them back, she would not cry in front of either man. Ever.

"I realize this might not be what you wanted –"  
Might not? She wanted to scream! Was Dumbledore actually insane, or just plain cruel? It appeared that there were worse things than living with the Dursleys.

"- but it is our only option. If the Dursleys return, you will go back to renew the Blood wards. There is after all, no such thing as too much protection. In their absence however, this remains our best option."

Her life would be ruined and she still might have to go back to the Dursleys. "No." she whispered.

"What was that?" Dumbledore asked.

"No!" She jumped out of her seat and her robes clung uncomfortably to her legs where she had earlier spilt her tea. "I won't – I don't want – NO!" there was anguish in her voice this time.  
"All my life has been ruined by decisions I didn't get the chance to make! She let Voldemort kill her for me! What if I didn't want to live? And then you left me with THEM and you make me go back every summer and I HATE it. And everyone has decided that it's my job to kill Voldemort. And the Triwizard tournament - I DIDN'T EVEN PUT MY NAME IN THE FUCKING CUP! And Cedric – and NO!"   
She swiped at the angry tears that formed in her eyes. The words she spoke made little sense as if reflecting the chaos of her mind. "I WON'T let you decide this for me. I don't want protection and I DON'T WANT HIM!" She pointed furiously at Snape, eyes blazing in Dumbledore's direction.

"I can assure you Potter, I don't want you either." Snape said coolly. He could not believe her ungrateful immaturity. She hated going back to her pampered life with the Dursleys? She didn't realize the burden she had placed on them; how grateful she should be to them. She didn't even value Lily's sacrifice! Once again, precious Potter was too conceited to realize that she needed the protection. Snape wanted to remove points for the disrespect she had shown in shouting profanities at the headmaster and Snape himself. That was Albus's duty in this situation so Snape held his tongue.

"I'm afraid that isn't your decision to make." Dumbledore said sadly. "We need you alive Harry. We want you alive."

"You want me live so I can fight in this war for you and kill Voldemort. You don't give a DAMN about me! You never have." A few of the glass instruments on the Headmasters desk shattered.

"Control yourself you insolent-"

"Severus" Dumbledore warned. "That's not true Harry. We care very deeply."

Snape snorted.

"I care very deeply." Dumbledore corrected "I want you to survive this war not win it." Albus said softly.

Harry took deep, calming breaths. Her heart beat rapidly. She could not believe the way she was acting; she could not believe that she had done so unscathed. She shook her head, screwing her eyes shut against the tears that threatened to fall. Dumbledore didn’t care, not in the way that mattered. If he truly cared, he wouldn’t make her do this.

"Please sir." She looked at Albus with a sort of mad desperation.  
"Harry, if there were any other way – "  
Harry bowed her head. Just as with her fear of her secret being found out, she was too cowardly to meet his gaze. She was too spineless to see the conviction in those blue eyes that only ever sought benefit the greater good. 

She seemed to sag as she exhaled. Her life, it seemed, was destined to be governed by others. She never got a say in her own future. Why should this be any different?

XXX

Severus watched the explosive progression of the meeting with barely restrained glee. She had screamed and fitted like a toddler in the throes of a tantrum and, just like an adult observing a toddler’s tantrum, Severus heard not a word of what the girl had shrieked. Severus had watched with expectant elation for Dumbledore’s response, but Dumbledore had responded with an expression bordering on benign, and words intended to sooth, not scold. Severus had snarled in frustration.  
When she had smashed some of Dumbledore’s precious whirring and ticking instruments in a burst of accidental magic and the old coot still had not reacted, Severus simply couldn’t contain himself! “Control yourself, you insolent-” but Dumbledore, much to Severus ire, had interrupted him. 

Potter was going to refuse Dumbledore’s instruction. He knew she was going to refuse. She was going to show herself to be every bit as arrogant and selfish as Severus had always told Dumbledore. She would say that she could take care of herself; too self-absorbed to realise that it was not only her safety at stake, but the entire wizarding world’s. The burden of refusal would rest squarely on her shoulders and Dumbledore would have to readjust his image of his perfect little golden girl. Severus was giddy with anticipation, barely noticing the girl’s facial expressions.  
But then she nodded, speaking the words in a cracked whisper. "What must I do?"  
Severus could not believe his ears! She was accepting? His mouth went dry. He was expecting her to put up more of a fight but here she was acting – obedient. She was acquiescing to the Headmasters request, just as Severus had. His stomach felt leaden. He was going to have to bond with Potter.

"We need to do the ceremony, but first, there are a few more things you need to understand."

XXX

There was always more, Harry thought wryly, resigning herself to the worst. Only her posture betrayed the fear she felt as she curled in on herself, fighting to keep her hands on her lap, instead wrapping them around herself in a feeble attempt at comfort.

"Firstly, the bond requires a close connection to be remotely effective so both you and Severus need to overcome this -" Dumbledore seemed to search for a word "hatred you share. Secondly, while the bond itself does not require consummation, the bond can be invalidated within a year by the Ministry if they believe that the bond is in any way false. By that I mean if either of you display a lack of desire for the bond. I do not expect you to consummate it, of course!" Dumbledore said hurriedly, seeing the anger flash through his Potion Master's eyes and the fear in Harry's.  
"We do however need to keep up appearances; as such, the two of you will be sharing quarters for the remainder of Harry's school career. This will serve a dual purpose as sharing quarters will also give you time to overcome your animosity."

Not likely, Snape snorted.

Harry looked up resignedly, all fight gone from her, and asked "When do we bond?"

"As soon as possible." Dumbledore responded.

"Now?" Harry inquired. She did not think she could leave this place and come back willingly.  
As it was, her legs felt like water. If she was going to do this, it had better be now.

"Now's a good a time as any." Dumbledore replied, his blue eyes calmly understanding. "We do need a fourth person to witness the bond. More if either requires it?"

"Minerva." Snape put in, looking rather queasy.

"Excellent idea" Albus beamed. "Harry?"

"Sirius? Or Mr Weasley. Maybe not Siri, we want Snape alive, right?" she joked weakly, mostly to calm her own nerves. No one laughed.

"Professor Snape, Harry." Dumbledore repeated gently.

"Right." She tried to smile apologetically, but she wasn’t certain if she had managed it.

"Thank Merlin it’s not your Dog-Father." Snape spat, sneering, his arms crossed tightly over his chest.

Harry glared at him. That expression, at least, came easily. 

"Severus, Harry." Dumbledore cautioned. Harry’s hard gaze with Severus broke and her eyes darted to Albus apologetically.   
The main straightened with renewed purpose and busied himself with a determined air. "I will send Fawkes to summon Minerva, and Mr Weasley, I shall fire call."

XXX

The five of them sat on chairs Dumbledore had summoned while the situation was explained to the newcomers. Harry wasn't listening. Everything sounded like a low buzz at the moment anyway. She was in a state of suspension between anger and calm, terror and resignation. The fates never seemed to smile on Harriet Potter.

"Harry."

"Harry?"  
She broke from her reverie and looked up at two adults who were gazing at her with pity in their eyes. Dumbledore was twinkling as if this weren't one of the worst days of Snape and Harry's lives.   
Snape was glowering at the middle distance.

The tea she had spilled on her lap had dried completely by now, the material uncomfortably stiff. That was the only indication to Harry of how much time had elapsed.

"Shall we begin?" Dumbledore asked.  
The five stood in an area Albus had cleared in the centre of the office. You need to link hands with Severus and repeat the words that Severus says. You'll know when."  
Snape and Harry stood face to face and Harry stared resolutely at Snape's shoes. She raised her arms tentatively and then lowered them. She couldn't do it.  
Snape took her hands into his callused ones, surprisingly gently and Harry looked up. The hatred shone back at her from endlessly black eyes and she flinched. Perhaps she would never get the chance to live with someone who didn't despise her.

Dumbledore began to speak an incantation in Latin. It sounded remarkably similar to song but Harry refused to hear the beauty in it.

For a moment it seemed as if the air was rippling and a pale mist began to swirl around their wrists. The mist grew gradually more opaque until white silken ties were binding themselves around Snape and Harry's connected hands.

How fitting, Harry thought. Handcuffs to signal the start of a life sentence.

"I, Severus Tobias Snape do swear to Honour and Protect Harriet Lilian Potter for as long as I am able. Her desires are mine. Her wishes are mine. Should even the world stand against her, my wand and blade will be at her side. And should it fail to protect her, let my own existence be forfeit."  
Thin ribbons of silver and black wound intricately over the white.

Snape's emotionless eyes belied his words and Harry swallowed back tears.

"I, Harriet Lilian Potter do swear to Honour and Protect Severus Tobias Snape for as long as I am able. His desires are mine. His wishes are mine. Should even the world stand against him, my wand and blade will be at his side. And should it fail to protect him, let my own existence be forfeit." Harry spoke softly and though her voice wavered, she said the words carefully.

She noted that the vows technically didn't promise any affection. If they both desired to hate each other, this would work just fine. She did need to protect him however - and him, her.

Ribbons of gold and a green whose colour seemed to swirl, as if alive; wound amongst the silver and black.

Dumbledore began the eerily beautiful song once more and a light that seemed to emanate from the bindings swelled to a glowing, opalescent orb that surrounded the five. The bindings grew warmer until they almost bunt. When Harry could barely stand it any longer, the heat dissipated and in opening her eyes, Harry saw the bindings grow translucent until they became seamless with the air.  
Snape dropped Harry's arms, as if electrocuted and turned away, his arms folded against his chest.  
Harry blinked in surprise and pulled her cloak around herself to ward off an imagined cold.

A roll of parchment appeared on Dumbledore's desk and each person present moved to sign it.

Harry's legs felt like lead when she moved toward the desk. The words were too blurry to make out through the tears that she would not shed. Dumbledore pointed to the line she needed to sign and she nodded gratefully.

The scroll disappeared the second her quill left the page. Seeing Harry's questioning glance, Dumbledore said it had gone to the ministry for filing.

House elves brought food that tasted like ash in Harry's mouth. She didn't feel hunger even though lunch was long past and she hadn't eaten since dinner the night before. It was closer to supper, if the darkening sky was any indication.  
She'd missed a lot more than History of Magic and she desperately wished that she hadn't.  
"I wish to leave." Snape announced. He stood but did not move, as if waiting.  
Harry wondered numbly why he didn't just go.  
"Harry." Dumbledore reminded.

Harry felt as if she had been doused with icy water as she realised; she had to go with him.


	4. The lair of the Dungeon bat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey wonderful people!
> 
> Quick note, I didn't make up the colour meanings. I stole them from the internet. The vows were adapted from some quote said by someone I have forgotten the name of. I will add a bibliography later. Sorry for plagiarizing!

Chapter 4  
The lair of the Dungeon bat  
The walk to the dungeons felt impossibly long and Snape's long strides did nothing to help matters. She struggled to keep up.  
She didn't want to keep up.

The corridors were mercifully empty. It appeared most of the castle had gone to bed. It must be late but she didn't have her watch with her and, as so often happened with those raised by muggles, she didn't think to use magic. Hermione and Ron were probably wondering where she was. Maybe they were worried? Harry certainly was.

They reached a portrait of a man who Harry suspected was Salazar Snape. A snake was wound lazily around Salazar's neck.

"Good evening Severus" the man in the portrait spoke.

Snape nodded curtly "Salazar." Snape said in answer.

Harry wondered for a moment if this was the password but the portrait didn't swing forward and her suspicions as to the man's identity was confirmed.

Man and snake eyed her curiously. "Who iss young mistress we wonders?" the snake hissed. “She iss not of our houssse.” Salazar, and the snake – if it were possible – looked at her red and gold robes with scathing distaste.

"Good evening." Harry replied in parseltongue.

"She sspeaks!" the snake said in wonderment. Salazar's eyes widened too, the distaste vanishing.   
Snape shot Harry a glare and she stepped back involuntarily.

"Hellebore" Snape said both for the portrait and Harry’s benefit. The portrait swung forward and Snape swept into his chambers followed, reluctantly, by Harry.

The room was much like Gryffindor common room but the rugs, couches and curtains had green and silver accents instead of red and gold.  
There was the same large fireplace and even a chess set towards the centre of the back wall that appeared to be half way through a game. The wall that the study desk was set against, had a large window that looked out into the murky waters of the lake and long strands of green seaweed swept against the window. Harry imagined she saw a tentacle of the giant squid swat lazily past.

Everything was neat but not impeccably so. It did not feel clinical like her aunt’s house.  
It was cold though and she was tempted to move towards the flickering light of the fire. She stayed put. She watched Snape as he placed his outermost cloak on a hook before moving to a cabinet from which he removed a crystal decanter of fire-whiskey and a glass. He filled the glass and downed its contents before refilling it.

He cradled the glass in his hands and moved over to the fire, staring blankly into the flickering flame.

Harry noticed her trunk was set against one of the four doors that led off from this lounge, study and kitchen area. The kitchen was small and some objects on the counters surface were unidentifiable to Harry. The first door was, of course the portrait they had used to enter the chambers. She could see a library beyond the second. Were the other two bedrooms? Or was one perhaps a private potions laboratory? Perhaps it was neither.  
She wrapped her arms around herself and her teeth started to chatter. Neither was a reaction to the cold. Snape was still staring resolutely at the fire. Harry was too frightened in this unknown situation to move in case she incurred his wrath. She wanted her four-poster bed. And Hermione - to tell her that everything was going to be alright.  
The minutes stretched on in silence until Harry could hardly bare standing any longer, swaying in exhaustion. 

"S-sir?"

Snape didn't react.  
She spoke louder this time: "Professor?"

Snape turned to her and his eyes darkened angrily. "What Potter? Did you think up some other ingenious way you could ruin my life?" he hissed.

She winced but her fists clenched in anger. She didn't want this and her life was ruined too. "I wanted to know where I would be sleeping." She said glaring at him insolently.  
"You could sleep in the broom cupboard for all I care Potter." Snape spat.  
She flinched and stepped backwards. Her dark, cramped cupboard had always induced an irrational terror in Harry, and now Snape was threatening the same sleeping arrangements. Did he know? Was he intending to use her fear as punishment?

Snape seemed to falter at her reaction. "That was uncalled for. I apologise Potter."  
Harry almost fell over in surprise. Snape apologising?

"The bedroom is through that door." He pointed to the door Harry's trunk was set against.

She pushed it open without asking, desperate for escape, and lugged her trunk inside. It required energy that she scarcely possessed. She swung the door shut and rested her back against the wall, sinking to the floor, flagging from her combined hunger and exhaustion, and fighting back the tears that stung her eyes.

She glanced around the large room, her vision blurred from unshed tears and sucked in deep, calming breaths. A warm rug covered most of the floor space and there was a second smaller rug in front of the fire upon which two single seated couches and one double seated couch sat. There was a tall chest of drawers that Harry assumed held clothing. The majority of the rest of the floor space was taken up by a large, finely carved, four-poster-bed. Harry noticed a door and she pulled herself up into a standing position.

She went through the door to find a bathroom. The floor looked like a pebbled riverbed but felt as smooth as glass. Ripples formed underfoot as she moved; it was mesmerising. There was a sunken bath, set into the floor that could have been called a small swimming pool. Harry wondered idly how much water it could hold – and how much water it wasted. There was a drought, wasn't there?  
The dungeon bat’s quarters were far better furnished than she had expected. There were certainly none coffins or shackles that many students would have expected in the chambers of their dour potions professor.

The shower was similarly sized with jets taking up almost its entire ceiling. There didn't appear to be a tap to start it. Perhaps you started it with magic?  
There were thick, fluffy white towels that hung from rails attached to the tiled black walls.  
The toilet was against the wall with the door she had just walked through and the basin sat next to the shower. There were two toothbrushes in a cup on the countertop. One was hers.  
A hand towel lay in a crumpled heap on the counter, and without thought, she picked it up, and neatly folded it.  
She heard a door opening and Snape walked into the bedroom. Only one bedroom then. Her stomach clenched; she would have to share a bed with the potions master. She would rather sleep on the floor.  
"Do you plan to shower now or tomorrow morning?" Snape's smooth voice asked.

"Now, sir." Her eyes were fixed on the floor.

"Get to it then, Potter. I will shower once you are done."  
Harry removed clothes from her trunk and moved into the bathroom. She remembered the shower didn't have taps and steeled herself to ask the question.

"How do I turn on the shower?" Snape glowered at her.  
In her nervousness, she stammered "I-is there an incantation or-?"

Snape sighed heavily as if exasperated. "It turns on as you enter. It reads your intentions and adjusts itself to the temperature you desire." he said coolly. It was clear that the brat hadn’t even tried to get the shower to work.

XXX

Harry stood under a steady stream of warm water. Her long hair clung to her lower back, just above the dimples at either side of the base of her spine. Water formed rivulets from the end of collective strands and streamed to fit the contours of her body. She washed herself slowly, dreading the moment she had to get out.

The water turned off, she supposed she had subconsciously asked it to. She stepped out onto a grey mat whose long, thick fibres cushioned her feet and she wrapped herself in one of the fluffy white towels.  
She dried her hair with a drying charm and dressed herself in shorts and one of Dudley's over-sized, long sleeved shirts that hid the bruising before stepping back into the bedroom. The longer shirt allowed her to drop most of her glamours, just not the ones on her face. This was more out of habit than anything else. She had once read that glamours required a constant source of magic to sustain, and this could exhaust the wearer. She had never experienced any sort of drain. She had been using glamours of-a-sort long before she came to Hogwarts, but that had been accidental magic. She didn’t want to risk sustaining them since that discovery, so she would drop them whenever possible.

Leaving the bathroom, she saw Snape sat on a couch by the fire, reading. "I've transfigured a chest of drawers for you to use. I advise you unpack now." Snape spoke as he swept into the bathroom and slammed the door. A moment later the shower started.

Harry breathed deeply and moved to unpack.

X

When Snape entered the bathroom, he expected to find it in a state of disarray. At the very least, he had expected Potter to leave the floor damp. No one would have been able to detect the presence of a person in the room. If anything, Potter had left it neater than she had found it. He could have sworn that he’d left a towel on the counter this morning

Snape cursed. He'd almost hoped he would be able to fault her. He certainly had a steaming heap of anger to rid himself of, he would have preferred to have a reason to vent his frustrations.

He was grateful too, he wouldn't have to train her to keep things clean. He liked his quarters to remain tidy and wouldn't tolerate mess from Potter. He had assumed, after years of having to decipher her untidy scrawl, that the girl would be as messy as her handwriting. It appeared his assumption was wrong. Thank Salazar for that. 

He was bonded to Harriet bloody Potter. The fates were obnoxiously cruel, but when had they ever been kind to Snape?

Snape thought about the bonding ceremony as he stepped under the searing jets of water. Potter had been ghostly pale and her hands shook violently when he took them into his.  
He wondered if she shook out of fear; he wondered what – or who – she was afraid of. Perhaps it was him?

"Probably." He snorted aloud to himself.

The ribbon colours were interesting. They were supposed to be representative of one's soul and their joining, the intertwining of souls.  
Black and Silver were Snape's. Black represented many things: power, elegance, formality, evil, and mystery. Fitting Snape thought.  
Silver represented dignity, self-control, responsibility, organization, insight and wisdom but also loneliness, insincerity, and deceptiveness. Rather accurate if Snape did say so himself.

Potter's were intriguing: gold and green. Gold represented love, compassion, courage, passion, and wisdom. Dumbledore might agree but Snape certainly didn't.

It was the green that interested Snape. It had looked alive, he'd never seen anything quite like it, at least not in a bonding ceremony. It had reminded him painfully of Lily's eyes. Maybe her soul was like her mother's then.  
Green classically represented renewal and growth which didn't fit.  
Snape shut off the water in thinking it and stepped out to dry himself.

He thought about the Potter brat being in his chambers and his anger swelled. She had even flaunted her Parseltongue to Salazar which had infuriated him. She was conceited, just like her father.  
In an even worse mood than the one he had entered with, Snape exited the bathroom.

Potter, it seemed had taken his advice. She was placing the last stack of clothes in the drawer when Snape entered.  
She turned, startled at the sound of the opening door and looked at him, wide eyed.

"Continue Potter. I doubt I have ever seen you follow an instruction before."

Anger flashed through her eyed but she held her tongue.  
Snape smirked - she looked scared - good. The fire whiskey had definitely taken effect.

He moved around the room, collecting his book and preparing for bed.

"I'll take the floor." Snape heard Potter say.

"The bed is large enough for two." Snape answered.

"Your virtue is safe from me, Potter. I can assure you that." Snape said coolly, seeing that Potter had stiffened at his words.

"I'll take the floor" Potter repeated stubbornly.  
Snape stalked to the chest of drawers and removed a blanket which he threw at Potter. Moving to the bed, Snape removed a pillow which he tossed on the floor.

Potter stooped silently to pick it up and then turned as if she intended to leave the room.  
"You will remain in this room. This fireplace is not connected to the floo, but the others are. If anyone floos in, they’ll see you and the ministry will have grounds to annul the bond." He said silkily. This in no way disguised the anger in his voice. Did Potter intend to make him look like he spared no regard for his bond mate? Had she no sense of propriety?  
"Let them." Potter replied insolently.

Snape saw red. He grabbed Potter by her upper arm – she flinched.

He would give her a reason to flinch, Snape thought venomously. He shoved her to the ground and heard a crack as Potter's left arm collided with the stone floor.

She gasped. She didn't cry out so the crack wasn't a bone. Snape sighed in relief, it was probably just the fire crackling in the grate. He immediately felt guilty but he would not apologise. Potter needed to know there were consequences for her actions here. She had probably never been hit in her life before.

 

Snape vowed he would never do it again. His actions had been harsh but hopefully she would think more carefully the next time she intended to show insolence.

Lily's red hair obscured her face and her breathing was laboured as if she was in pain.  
"It's just a bruise Potter, stop whinging." Snape snarled. Of course she would overplay it.

"Yes sir." The answer came. There was fear in that voice. Snape felt a twinge of guilt.

"The floor is cold. I advise you sleep in the bed if you don't want Pneumonia." Snape said, more gently this time.  
Potter nodded behind her curtain of hair and stood, pushing herself up with her right arm. Her left arm was cradled against her chest.  
She pulled back the sheets of the bed and got in, her face still hidden. She lay so close to the edge, it was as if she was about to fall off.

Snape extinguished the lights before slipping into bed, his head pounding. It was a long while before he was able to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know what you think? Support is greatly appreciated.


	5. Night terrors

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, thank you to all of you who rated, favorited and reviewed on ff.net and all those who left kudos or comments. Your support makes this completely worthwhile.
> 
> To LGilbert1982 (fanfiction.net) the reason Snape was able to harm Harry without his existence being "forfeit" is because of this. The vows said if either should "fail to protect [the other]"their existence will be forfeit.". 'Failing to protect' in my mind means not preventing your partners death. this will be explained more in chapter 6 (which is already written.)
> 
> Snape won't go unpunished though...  
> Happy Boxing Day!!
> 
>  
> 
> Thanks to all of those who left comments and kudos!  
> This is dedicated to all of you:

Chapter 5

Night terrors

Harry lay in the darkness trying to control her shaking and steady her breathing. Her arm was definitely broken. She had heard it crack when he had pushed her to the ground.  
Now she felt the searing pain that shot up her arm in throbbing beats that came in time with her hammering heart.

Snape said it was just bruised but she was certain he had heard the crack.  
He was the same as the Dursleys then. He would punish her and then deny being aware that she was hurt. He wasn't going to help her so she wouldn't ask. In everything else, he was like the Dursleys so she assumed she would anger him more if she asked for help. After all, he had told her to stop whining when all she was doing was breathing heavily. The Dursleys didn't even shout for that.

When he told her to get into the bed again, she did, without question. The less punishments she got, the better. She would have to be good here too.  
It seemed the summer hadn't ended and now it never would.

She shut her eyes against the tears that threatened to slip out and left the hair that fell in front of face instead of sweeping it away. She wished she had her bed hangings to hide behind instead.  
Darkness descended further and suddenly she was in the graveyard. There was a flash of green and Cedric lay lifeless on the floor. She screamed his name and begged nonsensically for him to be alive.  
She knew terror and her scar burnt painfully, and her arm was in agony, as Wormtail walked forwards, carrying a bundle in his arms. 

X

Snape woke at the sound of a whimper. It was Potter. She was tossing in her sleep and then she started to scream, thrashing wildly.  
Snape made out the words "Please" and "Not Cedric" and he knew exactly what she was dreaming about.

"Potter, wake up." He said softly.

"Potter, it's just a nightmare. Wake up, this isn't real." It was louder this time and he reached to touch her shoulder.

The moment his fingers made contact with her shoulder, she woke. She scrabbled backwards and fell off the bed.  
Harry cowered on the floor and the words came out in a whisper that greatly contrasted the terrified screams of a moment before "Please sir, I'm sorry."

Her eyes that were initially unfocused, widened, as if in sudden realisation and then they went to the floor reflexively and remained there.

"I-I'll use a silencing charm. I'm sorry."

"Do not apologise for something over which you have no control." His heart clenched painfully knowing it was entirely his fault that she was this scared.  
Brown eyes met his for an instant in surprise but then they were lowered and the girl pulled her legs against her body.

Severus noted that she still avoided use of her left arm.

Snape turned to his bedside table to remove dreamless sleep from the drawer. When he turned back, he saw Potter scrambling backwards. She was watching him apprehensively but relaxed imperceptibly when he held out the vial of dreamless sleep.  
What had she thought he removed from the drawer?

She stood gingerly and moved towards the bed.

"It's Dreamless Sleep." He said unnecessarily. He could see she knew what it was already.

She reached for it but then stayed her hand and watched him uncertainly  
He turned his hand so the vial rested on his upturned palm.  
"Thank you" she said as she removed the vial, careful not to touch his hand.

She removed the stopper and downed the vial before getting back into bed. She watched him cautiously for a while as if measuring up how much she could trust him but then she closed her eyes.

In a few seconds, she was breathing deeply and Severus knew she had fallen asleep.

Severus watched her resting face in the flickering firelight. With her eyes closed, Severus could barely distinguish Harry from Lily.

He felt transported back to a time when Lily didn't hate him.  
"I'm sorry Lily" Severus whispered in the semidarkness. He was apologising for so much. It would never be enough to just say sorry.

Severus slept with his fiery demons swirling just below the surface of his consciousness.

X X X

Harry woke slowly. Her first thought was that she was safe at Hogwarts. She could tell from the feel of the mattress and the warmth of the blankets.  
The first sign that something was wrong was the lack of sound in the room. Normally people would be moving about or talking in hushed voices by now.

She opened her eyes a crack and saw that there were no bed hangings and everything looked more – green.

It was as coiling tendrils of consciousness coalesced into awareness that she remembered where she was. She was in the dungeons. With Snape. She was bonded to Snape.  
Forever.

That throbbing pain in her arm had not been from the Dursleys. This one had been from Snape.  
She remembered her nightmare and her terror in waking. She remembered thinking it was Vernon at first but then her blurry-eyed vision focused slightly and she had seen Snape.  
He had told her not to apologise or something hadn't he? And then he had turned to his drawer and   
Harry had, in her groggy state of mind, thought he was getting out a belt. She had thought he was going to hit her like her uncle for waking him but he had shown kindness.

She didn't trust him for one second. He was trying to lull her into a false sense of security.  
She couldn't hear the Potions Master so she turned slowly to see if he was there. He wasn't  
She scrambled out of bed and checked the bathroom. He wasn't there either.  
Sighing gratefully, she started getting ready.

She cast a wholly inadequate healing charm on her arm, the crack in her bone knitting itself together, the halves of the bone still slightly misaligned. She knew the tenuous connection she had formed would not hold. She would have to steal Skelegrow from the infirmary for a more permanent repair. Her arm remained discoloured with bruising, and swollen. These were signs she would have to hide with glamours. 

Once she was dressed and the room was tidied, she stepped through the door.

The couches in this room were larger than the ones in the bedroom. Snape sat, like he had last night, reading in front of the fire.

Harry spotted a tea kettle on the kitchen counter-top and moved to make herself – and Snape – a cup.

X X X

Snape wasn't really reading; he was deep in thought. He hadn't even noticed Potter enter the room so it came as a great surprise when she broke him from his reverie with a cup of tea.

The tea was by far the greatest surprise. Was Potter being considerate?

She was sitting on the couch directly opposite from the fire. She was watching Snape and her tea sat on the table top in front of her, untouched.

She was waiting for something; he wondered what it was.  
Snape opened his mouth and then closed it again.  
"Thank you Potter." He said stiffly.  
She looked shocked, averted her gaze and then nodded in thanks.

She fidgeted with something on her skirt, casually avoiding the use of one of her arms.

The tea remained untouched.  
"Potter?"

Hazel eyes turned apprehensively to his.  
"Are you going to drink that?"

That seemed to be what she was waiting for, for she moved forwards and took the cup. She sipped a little too fast.

"We should head down to breakfast." Snape said, standing as he said it. He almost missed the flicker of surprise on her face at his words.

Harry followed him, after fetching her school bag, hurriedly through the corridors to the Great Hall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, kudos and reviews would be much appreciated


	6. "How could you, Harry?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys deserve more of a Christmas present then that measly chapter.
> 
> xx

Chapter 6 -"How could you, Harry?"

Snape and Harry parted ways before entering the Hall. Snape was using the teacher's entrance and Harry, the main entrance.  
As Harry stepped through the doors silence descended on the hall as people turned to look at her. Then the hushed whispers began.  
"I can't believe she bonded with Snape!" she heard a second year Hufflepuff whisper.  
"Do you reckon he forced her?" – This came from the Ravenclaw table.  
"Probably." Came the pompous reply.  
Harry sped up when she spotted Ron and Hermione. They parted as she reached them and she gratefully took her spot between them, immediately loading her bowl with more porridge than she could hope to eat, she was starving.  
She was immensely grateful that she was still going to have meals in the Great Hall. Snape, unlike the Dursleys’, couldn’t use food as a weapon if she could eat in the Great Hall. Or, at least, Snape couldn’t deny her food in the term time. In the summer however, Harry couldn’t be certain of anything. 

"Are you okay?" Hermione asked, the concern clear in her voice.  
Seeing the eyes of many a Gryffindor on her, Harry nodded and smiled falsely.  
Hermione looked fit to burst with questions, so Harry shook her head imperceptibly to let her know that now was not the time. 

Harry was about to ask Hermione what work she had missed in an overly optimistic attempt at diverting conversation away from the bond when Seamus broke the semi-silence in his lilting accent. 

"Is it true Harry?"

"Is what true?" Harry asked innocently, completely aware that the whole hall was trying to listen in.  
"You bonded with Snape?" Seamus gestured towards the Daily Prophet that lay next to him.

"Yeah" she said uncertainly.

A look of utter betrayal crossed Neville's face. "Why, Harry? Why him?” 

Many nodded in agreement with Neville's question and leaned in to hear Harry's answer.  
“Did he force you?” Ginny put in pityingly.

"Dumbledore arranged it.” Harry’s mouth was dry. “He-he’s strong. Magically.” She forced out, hoping they would conclude that it was for her protection. She was entirely uncertain of what she was allowed to say. “He didn’t force me.”

Lavender tittered behind her hand, whispering something to Parvati, who giggled.

Harry turned hurriedly to Hermione before another question could be asked. "So –uhm- what did I miss?"

Hermione filled her in eagerly, pulling the notes she had made for Harry out of her bag.

The Gryffindor’s looked disappointed and many looked angry or betrayed. Harry resolutely ignored them.

X X X

Harry, Ron and Hermione found an abandoned classroom in which to talk. The Common Room would have too many ears.

Hermione passed Harry a copy of The Daily Prophet.

Harry didn't have to look far. The blaring front page headline read:

Former Death Eater Bonds with the Girl who Lived!

The article continued.

Our very own Harriet Potter; saviour of the wizarding world, has entered a Bond with none other than Severus Snape; Potions Master, Hogwarts Professor, and known ex-Death Eater.  
Ministry officials were sent reeling when they received documents confirming this most unusual bond a mere 6 hours ago.  
While their difference in age is not unusual, student-professor relationships are certainly rare and often times frowned upon. This is not to mention the accusations that Severus Snape is a known Death Eater.  
The nature of the Bond is yet to be released but many are left wondering; was Potter coerced? If not, what was her reason for Bonding with someone of a far lower status and far less wealth?  
Turn to page 4 to read further.

Harry dropped paper.  
"It's a Protection Bond." She said, staring at her lap glumly.

"I thought it was something like that." Hermione sighed pityingly.  
"Why do you need protection from that greasy git?" Ron exclaimed angrily.  
"The Dursley's are gone." Harry explained, tucking a strand of red hair behind her ear.  
"That's great, isn't it?" Ron said excitedly.

"Ron!" Hermione reproached seeing Harry's face.

"Right, sorry Harry. Snape sucks."  
Hermione kicked Ron’s shins but Harry snickered and nodded.

Ron launched into a story about some quidditch play he had seen over the summer in an attempt to distract Harry.

Harry smiled to herself, she was so grateful that she had Ron and Hermione.

She wasn't really listening though; she was too caught up in her thoughts about this morning, but she ooh’d, ahh’d and nodded in all the pauses. After handing Snape his cup of tea, she had had a sudden fear that he, like the Dursleys, expected her to wait for permission before eating. Most of the time, the Dursleys gave her barely any food at all. It had been a bit presumptuous of her to make tea for herself too, hadn’t it?

It seemed that Snape was better in some ways. And worse in others.

"You aren't listening, are you?" Ron practically pouted.   
Harry ohh’d and nodded emphatically in response. 

“Snape really is the picture of beauty, isn’t he?” Ron asked, seeing how much more deeply Harry could dig herself before she realised that she was, in fact standing in her grave.

She nodded, a little more absentmindedly this time, and then faltered. 

“Wait, what?”

Ron snorted and collapsed in gales of laughter. Hermione raised an eyebrow in an attempt to look scathing, but the effect was somewhat lessened by the humour dancing in her eyes. Harry couldn’t help but laugh too.

 

XXX

The trio were the first to enter the charms classroom, excluding Flitwick who shook Harry's hand and congratulated her on her Bond with Snape.

Harry grimaced.

They were practicing mending charms and although Harry had successfully mended a few broken mugs in the previous lesson, she was struggling now. Try as she might, she could do no more than cause the shards to come together to form the object before they fell apart again.  
Hermione watched her spell casting but could not find a flaw in Harry's technique that would cause the inability.

In transfiguration, they were supposed to be transfiguring legs onto their teacups. Hermione's trotted happily across the table top on sturdy, willow- patterned legs.

Ron's teacup had thin, fragile-looking legs that could barely support the weight of the cup. They had wobbled and collapsed, cracking the teacup in two after their third attempt to stand.

Harry's however, did not even sprout legs, it just wobbled feebly on the table top. Harry could hear the Slytherins snickering.

Professor McGonagall looked on concernedly and asked Harry to meet her in her office at the end of the lesson.  
Ron and Hermione left apologetically while Harry packed up her bag and followed Professor McGonagall to her office.

"How are you and Severus getting along, Potter?" McGonagall asked, offering a tin of shortbread as she spoke.  
Harry looked up shocked, she certainly hadn't expected that.

"Fine" she mumbled, eyes going to the floor.

"Potter, the bond restricts your magic if you fight with or harm each other."

"Oh." Harry said softly. "Does that mean I have to try to get along with Snape?"

"Professor Snape, Harry.” she interjected gently, “Although I don't think he will expect you to call him that in private." The last was said more to herself than to Harry. "Yes, you will have to 'get along' with Severus." She finished crisply, looking up at Harry.

Harry thought it strange that she spoke her nickname instead of her surname; or even her given name.

Professor McGonagall dismissed Harry and she got to the door before turning back.

"Professor?"

"Yes?"

"In the v-vows we said something like our 'existence will be – forfeit' if we fail to protect each other.  
So if I hurt him, will I die?"

Harry meant "if he hurt me" but she didn't want to concern her Head of House.

"No Potter. Generally speaking, the forfeit matches the crime. Failure to protect each other implies the others death. If one of you dies in a manner that could have been prevented by the other, then yes, you will die." She said calmly.  
"Oh" Harry said lamely "that makes sense." She left without another word for lunch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you are enjoying this so far. More Chapters still to come.  
> Kudos/likes, and reviews are always appreciated. 
> 
> I read and treasure all of your comments.


	7. Exploding Potions and Potions masters

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the slow update! It's a long one so enjoy!  
> Thank you for the kudos, comments, rates, reviews and follows!  
> The arm will be explained in this chapter, i promise ;)
> 
> To these wonderful people that left comments: IronBoom, Hello, scatteredintime, sighing_selkie, ALiveTodaytoWrite , Olafthebard, Serenitymoonlight, Aeeet. This is for you!

Severus was in a towering temper. He had woken with his head throbbing, and had immediately downed some hangover remedy.   
His headache had not dulled. 

He had taken a number of pain relieving potions, and was now at a point where he dared not take any more for fear of overdosing. His headache was still as prominent as ever.

The whole morning, he had had to put up with accusatory glares, confused, or assessing stares, and whispers that would cease, only to continue when his back was turned, from staff and students alike.

Worse still - he had attempted to vanish the contents of Fred Weasley’s cauldron, when the moronic child had managed to turn a sticking solution into a blackened, congealed mess - only to find that the spell would not work.

In fact, no spell that he had attempted to cast so far that day, had shown the slightest sign of working. 

XXX

It was potions after lunch. Ron was still fuming about the block on Harry’s magic by the time they got to Snape’s class.  
Harrys stomach was tying itself in knots. The prospect of going to potions seemed so much worse now that Snape had more control over her.

They were making the Strengthening Solution which, like every other potion, required lots of cutting and crushing. Harry struggled with her injured arm.

She braced it against her torso, to avoid jostling it, and had taken a potion for the pain. The potion was one of the last remaining from the supplies she had nicked from the infirmary at the end of last year.  
She was good at hiding injuries. She had done it all her life. She had used accidental magic to disguise them long before she came to Hogwarts. Even now, her glamours were wandless and they seemed completely unaffected by the bond. She had checked after her talk with McGonagall in sudden terrified realisation that turned out to be unfounded.

This didn’t make the arm any more usable and Skelegrow was harder to come by than pain relievers.   
It didn’t help much that her concentration was shot and her nerves frazzled from being around Snape.  
For once, he didn’t make snide remarks. He must be feeling the effects of the bond she thought smugly to herself.  
He was watching her a whole lot more as if trying to fault her. The more he looked, the more mistakes she made and her incompetency infuriated her - and him if his expression was anything to go by.  
She had just started adding the powdered Griffin claw when her potion began to bubble and froth before exploding with a loud BOOM!  
Snape advanced on her and she tried her utmost not to cringe.

“Did you or did you not add the salamander blood before adding powdered Griffin Claw?”

Harry glanced over at her work bench in horror. The tiny vial of salamander blood sat, unopened on the table top.

“I forgot” she gathered her bravery and looked him directly in the eye.

“You forgot, SIR.” Snape corrected.

The Slytherins were smirking.

“Detention Potter and 20 points from Gryffindor. Class dismissed.” Snape snarled before turning on his heel in a swirl of robes.

Zabini was leaning against the wall outside the classroom by the time Harry, Ron and Hermione left.  
“Potter!” Blaise called out.

Harry kept walking.

“Oi, Potter!” his dulcet tone mocked.

She ignored him again.  
“That’s very rude of you Potter.” Blaise pouted and with lightning-fast reflexes, he had Harry pinned against a wall. His elbow dug painfully into her fractured ribs. A crowd was gathering around them.

“Disrespectful, aren’t you? Perhaps your Bond-mate should give you another detention. I wonder, will you be serving your punishment on your knees?” Blaise pushed a thigh between her legs and ground himself against her; his breath came hot and heavy against her cheek. “Perhaps he’ll let me join in.”

Harry’s stomach roiled and she turned her face away from him. Ron and Hermione had raised their wands and although neither had cast a spell, the pressure that was Blaise was no longer there.

She collapsed on the ground and heard Snape’s most venomously silky voice. She turned to see Blaise held up against the wall by his throat.

“If you so much as touch my Bond-mate again, I will kill you. Am I understood?” Snape snarled.  
Blaise tried to nod and Snape moved his grip to the collar of Blaise’s robes.

“You will serve detention with Filch every night for the rest of term.” Snape continued.  
“Yes sir, I’m sorry sir.” Zabini whimpered. Snape let go of his robes and he fell to the floor in a crumpled heap.

The Slytherins were in an absolute state of shock that was about to deepen.

“One hundred and fifty points from Slytherin.”  
The Gryffindor’s and Slytherins gasped in unison. Snape hadn’t taken points from Slytherin in living memory.

“A further fifty points from Slytherin and Gryffindor for those of you that stood around and did nothing.” Snape said, his robes swishing about him as he turned.  
“Let this serve as a warning to all of you, now GO!” he boomed.

Everyone scattered and Ron and Hermione rushed to help Harry.  
Snape got there first.

He stooped and looked at Harry. “Are you alright Potter?”

She nodded and blinked back tears that she knew Snape saw, pushing herself into the wall in an attempt to look less conspicuous. Her ribs ached, and it was her remaining mental fortitude that kept her from clutching them.

She wasn’t all to certain of the cause of the tears. She was in a state of shock from Zabini’s actions but also from Snape’s.

“I apologise for not coming sooner.”

Harry nodded again and in an effort to keep her voice from breaking, she whispered “Thank you.”  
Ron and Hermione looked as astounded as she felt.

“Do you need me to take you to the infirmary?”

“NO! I mean no, sir. I’m fine” she said quickly. She couldn’t let Pomfrey run a scan on her - which Harry was certain she would do – with her magic was behaving so erratically, she couldn’t be certain that her glamours would hold. 

“If you deem it necessary, you will escort her to infirmary.” Snape addressed Hermione.

She looked lost for words but nodded. Snape turned once more and headed down the corridor in a billow of black robes.

“Blimey!” Ron wheezed. “That was out of character, wasn’t it?”

Hermione and Harry both nodded.

“What a douchebag! Pinning you against the wall like that. What did he say?” Ron leaned in to offer a hand.  
Harry shook her head. “We had better get to divination.” She put in before Ron could push the topic.

 

She was utterly confused about the way Snape was acting.

She felt a strange twinge of light-heartedness at his actions but then the moment passed.

Snape had hurt her too and that had been only a few hours ago.

XXX

Snape’s heart was pounding. He could not believe the actions of his Slytherins. Even the ‘brave’ Gryffindors had stood by and done nothing.

He had heard Zabini’s voice calling Harry’s name and had already moved towards the door when her name was called a second time.

Zabini had her pinned against the wall and he was grinding himself against her; whispering something in her ear.

Harry looked to be in pain but it was the terror in those eyes that drove him to action.

His thoughts were about his treatment of Lily when he first saw Harry pinned against the wall but then he had seen her terrified hazel eyes and his thoughts were turned to Harry alone.

For the first time Snape could remember, he entirely forgot to use magic.  
He ripped Zabini off her and shoved him against the wall one handed.

It was a blessing in disguise he supposed, that he had fought in the muggle way considering that his magic had been restricted all morning. He had come to suspect that it was the Bond acting up.

The infernal Bond, he thought to himself, was going to be the death of him.

He had no idea where that sense of protective loyalty had come from. He would not tolerate abuse. Many of his Slytherins came from abusive homes and he always fought for them. He supposed it had stemmed from that.

He hated Potter but in that moment, she had been a scared girl who couldn’t defend herself.  
Befriending her was going to be another feat entirely and Snape did not think he could do it.

He’d have to try.

In his distraction, he failed to notice that the throbbing behind his temples had finally, if only slightly, abated.

XXX

Harry headed down towards the dungeons after dinner. She wasn’t certain when her detention would be but she was terrified that she may get more than just the detention as punishment.

She reached Snape’s porthole and the snake around Salazar’s neck hissed in greeting.

“Good evening” she said in reply. “Is he in a bad mood?” she asked the pair.

“Why do you ask?” Salazar looked curious.

Harry shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot “I think I’ve made him angry.” She immediately wanted to retract her words, for they sounded weedy and foolish.

“I do not know” Salazar tilted his head and looked critically at her.

She sighed “Thanks anyway.”  
She had to think for a while before she remembered the password. “Uhh, Helebore?”  
The portrait swung forwards.  
Snape appeared to be marking at his study desk.  
“Good evening, sir.”  
Harry held her breath.

“Good evening.” Snape replied without turning  
Harry let out the breath. He wasn’t angry.

“Did you go to the infirmary?” he was slashing viciously over someone’s essay with his red ink quill.

“No sir.”

He turned to face her and she took a step back.

“You don’t have to call me sir in our chambers.” He said softly.

“Yes si- I mean Professor.” Harry spoke hurriedly.

“Severus, Potter.”  
“Oh” Harry said in shock. She shook her head quickly, like a dog trying to rid its hair of water, and then went on.  
“Don’t call me Potter then.” She replied. “Please.” She added quickly.

Snape raised an eyebrow. “Alright then … Harriet, do you have homework left to do?”

“Harry” she interrupted, pulling a face “I hate being called Harriet.” She explained, cheeks flushing in embarrassment.   
“You detest your given name?” Snape sounded genuinely curious.

Harry nodded.  
“Very well. Do you have homework to do Harry?”

Her name sounded foreign coming out of his mouth and she bit back a smile.  
“Divination.” Her nose wrinkled in distain.

Seeing her expression, Snape put in: “Your mother loathed it too, as do I.”

“You knew my mother?!” Harry gasped.

“Rather well, yes.” Snape nodded, looking slightly uncomfortable until he restored his mask of impassivity.

“Have you completed your potions essay?” Snape changed the topic hurriedly.

“Yeah, in my free before lunch, my Transfiguration one too.”  
Snape nodded approvingly. “I can check through them before bed if you wish?”

“You would do that si- Severus?”  
Snape looked like he wanted to make a snide remark but nodded curtly.

“I should probably get started on divination.” 

Snape nodded again and turned back towards his marking.   
Harry sat cross legged at the low table in front of the fire.

What felt like moments later to Snape, Potter spoke behind him. The fire that had been roaring in the grate, was now diminished to embers. 

“I’m finished, sir. I-I could help with the um - marking?” she finished uncertainly.

Snape snorted and Harry blushed.

“Go shower Pot- Harry, I’m nearly finished anyway.”

Harry disappeared into the bathroom and a few moments later, Snape heard the shower start.

Why the girl thought it was necessary to clean up after him, or help him mark, was anyone’s guess.

XXX

Snape and Harry sat on opposite couches in the main lounge. Snape was reading through Harry’s Potions essay. He had already helped her with her transfiguration essay and she was astounded at how much he knew and how easy he made the concepts seem.  
She would actually have called him a good teacher had she not spent years struggling through his potions class.

“It’s good but you haven’t spoken about the effect of adding doxy eggs on the potency of the solution. Perhaps you should add a bit more in this section here about the benefits of harvesting nightshade berries by moonlight.”  
Harry made small notes on her essay as he spoke.

Snape moved to his liquor cabinet once she had packed her parchment away and poured himself a glass of fire whiskey. “Would you like some?” he asked, holding out a glass he had just removed.

Harry looked apprehensive as if she thought the question was a trap. “Uh-“

Snape poured a glass and handed it to her.

“Thank you, sir” she looked to the ground.  
“You are supposed to drink that you know?”  
She laughed nervously before taking a sip. She spluttered and wheezed as the liquid seared its path down her throat.  
Snape hid a smirk and glared at her.  
They sat in a mostly awkward silence, alternately sipping their drinks and staring into the fire.  
Snape thought Potter was more tolerable than he had expected and his obsidian eyes moved to study her.  
She yawned deeply.

“Bed.” He said brusquely.

“Yes sir.”

She stood and moved to the bedroom.

He sighed. Normally he couldn’t get her to call him sir and now she couldn’t stop. It was like she was intentionally trying to annoy him.

 

A short while later, he stood too and made his way to bed.

She was already asleep and just as close to the edge as she had been last night. That suited him just fine, Severus thought as he got into bed.

 

He woke and cast tempus. It was 2:30am.

Severus groaned and wondered why he had woken at this infernal hour and then the bed shifted.

Potter was thrashing in her sleep and her mouth was moving as if she was screaming.

That’s when he remembered her words; “I’ll use a silencing charm, I’m sorry.”

He had told her not to apologise but he had forgotten to address the first part of her statement.

“Sonorous” he whispered and her screams returned to a normal volume.  
“Wake up, it’s just a dream Potter.” There was no reaction.

“Harry?” He reached for her shoulder again.  
Once again, as his fingers made contact, she woke and fell off the bed in her frantic attempt to get away. This time there was no apology, she cowered on the floor, watching him through hooded eyes.

“Stop acting like a wounded animal.” Snape snarled.

She didn’t move.

“Come here Potter.”  
Her eyes widened and she shook her head feebly.

“Harry, I’m not angry that you woke me up; I’m angry that you used a silencing charm.”  
Snape said, gently this time, apparently realising that his anger wasn’t helping matters. She looked disbelieving.  
“You know Potter? There is one good thing about being bonded to a potions master.” Severus spoke with forced calm, ludicrously picturing Hagrid trying to calm some skittish beast. Harry wouldn’t meet his gaze, so Severus continued “An endless supply of potions.” With deliberate slowness, he turned to the drawer.

She hadn’t moved away this time. He placed the vial on the matrass, close to where she slept and lay down to feign sleep.

What felt like a long while later, the mattress dipped and he heard the soft ‘pop’ as the vial was unsealed.

XXX

The next morning, after breakfast, Harry sat editing her essays in the library before her first lesson started. She had just completed her transfiguration essay on physically personifying inanimate objects and was starting on the potions one.

She went to the shelves to find some books for her potions essay. She found an extract she needed and reworded it.  
She was about to put the essay away when she saw her last note. The word that caught her eye was moonlight.

The moon.

New moon was still a long way off but she had completely forgotten about the curse in her anger at her current situation.

What was she going to do?  
Snape would definitely notice her absence and he would be far from happy.

New moon was coming and she needed to come up with a plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Snape is being nice to Harry but it's for his own, selfish reasons. 
> 
> It seems he has accidentally realized that she may not be quite as terrible as he had hoped.
> 
> "She's still bloody annoying. that hasn't changed." Snape quickly adds. 
> 
> Yes, yes Snape. We ALL know how much you hate Potter (but we also know how wrong you are..)


	8. Misunderstandings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry guys!  
> I'm back now. i have written a few more chapters but they need a bit of fleshing out but here is the first installment.  
> (All chapters have been edited in Jan of 2018.)

he days passed in much the same way as the second.  
At night, Snape would mark and Harry would complete her homework. Snape would check through her work and help her in everything except divination.  
They would carefully avoid each other when it came time to shower and then sit together once more in front of the fire.  
Snape would pour himself and Harry a glass of elf made wine, Fire Whiskey or Honeyed Mead as was his nightly habit. He included Harry because he wanted his Bond Mate to be “well educated” when it came to good alcohol. Or so he said.

They would generally talk about their days at this time but neither went into much depth.  
On weekends, Snape occasionally took Harry into his private labs that were indeed behind the final door. He would teach her a new potion or go over an old one. He realised that if he shouted less and explained more, she wasn’t all too terrible at potions. He might even grudgingly admit that she was rather proficient.  
He even let her help with making potions for Poppy. She seemed exceptionally eager to brew Skelegrow and he allowed her to bottle the batch and take it up to Pomfrey when she nervously asked to.

Occasionally, Snape caught her talking to Salazar and Athena (Harry had told him the name of the snake the second time he found her in hissed conversation with the pair). Initially, these interactions greatly annoyed Severus but Potter seemed to thoroughly enjoy them so Snape let them continue without comment.  
Snape transfigured a second chess set and they played some evenings. Harry was terrible at it and Snape always won but that didn’t deter her.  
Harry wondered why they hadn’t used the existing chess board. It was halfway through a game and she wondered with whom Snape was playing.

They would read together. Snape read weekly potions journals and old tomes that Harry couldn’t begin to understand. Harry read books suggested by Snape or Hermione that would help with her course work.   
Snape cooked dinner on Saturdays and they ate together in awkward silence occasionally speaking about potions or defence but never about themselves.

Severus found Harry’s apparent fussiness with food profoundly irritating. She gravitated towards the insipid and always ate very little. He had observed her eating habits not only in their private chambers, but in the Great Hall too, as he found his eyes more frequently drawn to her in the time following their bond. He might have been concerned for her health but the meagre meals seemed enough to sustain her and she looked healthy enough.  
Harry offered to cook the second weekend. While Severus was originally reticent, expecting the food she cooked to be as bland as the food she favoured, he found himself astounded at her obvious skill.

Most of the rest of her weekend time, she spent with Ron and Hermione or she would practice quidditch. That wasn’t only on weekends though.  
She often sat, writing letters to Sirius or Remus, both of whom showed great concern at the formation of the bond.   
Occasionally, they would fight and their magic would suffer for it. The fights were always started by Severus in a state of annoyance with the brat. She seemed abnormally cautious around him as if trying to avoid baiting him which was no easy task. Almost everything she did annoyed Snape. 

She often shied away from him if he moved to quickly toward her. She would flinch at odd times and whisper an apology like when she broke a potions vial or burnt food. She did it often in their meals alone together. She ate even less in their meals alone than she did in the great hall, but looking at Potter’s healthy weight reassured him that her appetite was just smaller than most. 

Mostly, their interactions were civil and sometimes, even friendly.

Their magic in no way seemed to benefit from the bond.  
In the times when they were civil or friendly, their magic gradually returned to its usual full strength but no further.

Every morning, they would get ready for the day ahead and Harry would make tea for herself and coffee for Snape. They would drink it in front of the fire and talk about trivial things. Sometimes, they sat in silence but neither seemed to mind much.

They would head down to breakfast and the Hall would break out in whispers if they entered together as if the students had nothing better to talk about. Sneverus noted with interest that Potter seemed to abhor the attention but he ruled it off as an act for the masses. Of course Potter loved it.

The Gryffindors seemed angry with their supposed hero and many had been ignoring her. Most got over it but there were a few who appeared to be incapable of behaving maturely.  
The Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws were equally cold, as if Harry had somehow betrayed them all.

The Slytherins had been grudgingly respectful, in a manner that closely matched their treatment of Snape, ever since that fateful day outside his classroom.  
The Malfoy girl had stopped antagonizing Harry as if she had lost heart in it. It seemed she no longer derived any joy from it. Snape was grateful - he enjoyed the company of his god-daughter - not that he would cease to spend time with her for Harry’s sake. Potter’s sake.  
Snape refused to call her Harry in his mind too.

He would have spent time with them separately for his god daughter’s sake however. Now, this seemed unnecessary.   
Ron, Neville, Seamus and Dean all shot Snape death glares whenever Harry’s back was turned and he smiled snidely back. Their petty dislike didn’t faze him. Harry seemed to have asked them not to for they were careful not to let her see them do it.  
Snape wondered why she would have made the request. Maybe it wasn’t Harry; perhaps it was Hermione.

Hermione had looked at him with renewed respect since he had ‘rescued’ Harry from Zabini. It seemed his reputation was slipping away along with his chance at happiness – not that he had ever really had much of a chance.

Severus had been rather shocked to receive Howlers from Sirius Black and Molly Weasley individually threatening his life (and a part of his anatomy that he considered equally important) if he so much as touched Harry. Thankfully, no one had been present while he had received either so he left the experience with his dignity mostly intact.   
There was some new speculation in the Prophet almost daily about their Bond and Harry eventually stopped reading it.  
Snape continued to read the Prophet and pretended it didn’t bother him. It did. 

He resented that he was always painted as the picture of evil. The one who had manipulated or tricked Potter into the bond- when the true manipulator was Dumbledore. He was always the “Slytherin Deatheater” – never mind that he had been exonerated of his crime of taking the mark for working on the side of the light.

The news stories gradually moved further back in the paper – there was only so long one could speculate about something one knew nothing about.

They would go about their days as they had before the Bond and then they would head back to their joint chambers and the strange routine they had fallen into would start again.

One afternoon spent with Ron and Hermione, Harry lost track of time. She ran back to the Chambers and arrived, out of breath, an hour after curfew.  
She clambered timidly through the portrait hole and Snape sat nursing his drink in front of the fire.

She stepped lightly forwards until he noticed her presence.

“How was your day?” the Potions Master asked. There was no anger in his voice.

“I’m sorry sir.”

“Not in our chambers Harry.” Snape sighed.

“I’m sorry Severus.” She corrected quickly thinking that Snape was talking about her use of ‘sir’.

“What are you apologizing for Potte- Harry? If you insist on apologizing, I ask that you explain your apology.” There was irritation in his voice.

“F-for being la-late.” Her eyes were downcast. “I lost track of time.”

“You don’t have to explain yourself to me Potter. We are bond-mates and in these chambers, I will attempt to treat you as such.”  
Harry looked absolutely stunned and stared, frozen, for a full minute before nodding.

“I would ask that you do the same.” Snape said “Treat me as your bond mate.” Snape clarified looking pointedly at her. She looked slightly confused and if Snape wasn’t much mistaken, she looked afraid.  
Harry was unusually quiet for the rest of the evening.

X X X

Severus stood in the room, unbuttoning the cuffs of his shirt when Harry came into the bedroom. She had showered long before and was already dressed for bed.  
She watched him unbuttoning his shirt out of the corner of her eye with her back against the wall and her head bowed. Her arms were wrapped around herself and she was barely perceptibly shaking, as if cold - or scared.

Severus moved into the bathroom to continue undressing and showered. His marking had taken longer than expected so he was showering a lot later than he had previous nights.

When he stepped out of the bathroom, Harry was sitting on their bed, staring unfocused at her hands.  
She jumped up and remained standing when he came in. Her eyes remained downcast.  
Severus had no idea why the girl was acting so strangely.  
“Get into bed Potter.” He said in irritation.

Her chest was heaving as if her breathing was laboured. “How do you want me to lie?”  
What on earth was she on about? He thought in utter confusion. “However you want to lie.”

She moved to the bed, her arms shaking violently as she took pillows from the top of the bed and moved them into a stacked pile near on the floor.  
She climbed onto the bed on hands and knees, her gaze constantly averted from Snape.  
He stood, frozen, attempting to make sense of the strange behaviour.

She lay face down, the sheets bunched in her hands at either side of her head and her head was faced away from him.  
“What do you think you are doing?” Snape asked incredulous. Was she sleep walking?

She jumped to her feet and muttered an apology before moving her hands to the hem of her oversized shirt and pulling it over her head so that she stood in a black bra and faded, baggy, pyjama bottoms. She was reaching for the waistband of the pants when Snape unfroze.  
“Stop Potter!” he shouted.  
She flinched and stilled her hands. The shaking hadn’t stopped.  
“Explain yourself.” He said angrily. What was Potter playing at?

“I-I don’t know what you want me to do.” The whisper was barely audible and her arms moved to cover herself.

“What the hell are you talking about?” Severus asked, his confusion deepening. “Why are you doing this?”

“Because – because you said to act more like your bond-mate.” She said softly. “I th-thought you meant…”   
Severus stood in stunned silence. She thought he wanted to have sex with her?

She had been so afraid. Had she believed he would force her? That he wanted to rape her?

“Po- Harry, sex isn’t a punishment and it is definitely not something to be done if it isn’t consensual. This was not what I meant at all.”

She took deep, shuddering breaths and relief flooded her features. A single, soft “Oh.” was all she uttered in reply.

“I would never force you to do anything you did not wish to do.” Severus continued. His heart thudded uncomfortably and he felt cold at the thought of her fear.

“What did you mean sir?” she asked timidly, eyes darting up to meet his. “Severus.” She self-corrected.  
“I meant I wanted you to stop asking for my permission before you do anything in these chambers. Stop tiptoeing around me. I’m no longer just your Professor and I certainly won’t take points. Our magic hasn’t grown any stronger since this infernal bond was started, and it never will if you keep…” Severus wasn’t quite sure how to finish that.   
“I didn’t expect any intimacies from you Harry.” Snape’s too-soft voice lacked the anger Harry would have expected.

“Thank you.” she whispered.

His heart ached at those words. She was thanking him for not wanting to force himself on her. He wasn’t exactly certain what to say and he opened and closed his mouth a few times.

“I’m going to bed.” He decided on finally before turning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd love to hear what you think!
> 
> LRW


	9. Rude assumptions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please don't forget to read the previous chapter. It has been updated but I don't know if you will have been informed.  
> Much love for all those who have left comments and likes. You all make me so happy!
> 
> (edited in January 2018)

New moon had been a few nights later and, as promised, Snape didn’t reprimand Harry for not returning even though she only got back in the early hours of the morning.

He did surreptitiously ask her where she had been and she made up a story about sleeping in Gryffindor tower. He raised his eyebrow to show his scepticism.

She had gone to the same abandoned classroom as the month before. The added injuries this month hadn’t made the curse any easier. She had to avoid punishments because she hated reliving them and she would have to relive each one, every month, for the rest of her life.

She had stolen a vial of the skelegrow that she was supposed to bring up to Pomfrey. At least the rib fractures and broken arm had healed; even if the bruising hadn’t.

Harry was deep in thought as she walked down to Snapes – their chambers after dinner. She was still getting used to this. She still desperately missed her housemates.

Many Gryffindors were still ignoring her and she couldn’t pretend it didn’t upset her. She hadn’t chosen this. 

She enjoyed talking to Salazar and Athena to distract herself. They knew so much about the school and always had something new and interesting to tell her. She supposed that would be true of anyone who had heard centuries worth of the goings-on in the castle.

They often gave advice about her bond-mate. They told her what types of things he liked, what foods to cook for him and would warn her if he seemed angry that day. 

She reached the portrait and greeted them in Parseltongue.

“Young Mistress, Master Severusss has a visitor.” Athena hissed.  
“We thought you should be warned.” Salazar added.

“Do you know who it is? Can you hear what they are saying?” Severus had not mentioned that he was expecting visitors.

“Lucius.” Salazar replied, a smirk curling his lips. Harry went cold.   
“We do not know what they are saying. They have sssilenced our hearing.” Athena susurrated.

“Thank you.” She hissed “Open.” 

She had quickly learnt that this command in Parseltongue always opened this portrait hole.  
She pushed it open gently and moved noiselessly into the room.

“Tell me Severus,” came Lucius sly, silky voice. “what is the reason for your bonding? Was it for your own gain or do you plan to bring her to our master?”   
Harry’s heart thumped.

“Do you honestly think Albus has not taken precautions against that?” came Snape’s snide reply.

“How did you get her to Bond with you? You are surely of no worth to her. Come now Severus; you cannot pretend that the girl is actually interested in you?” Lucius tone was mocking.

Harry clenched her fists. This reminded her painfully of the way she had been taunted by the Dursleys. 

“It’s not for your money or appeal, both of which are sorely lacking.” Lucius eyes were raking up and down Snape as if searching for reasons why one might find him worthy. There was a sly glimmer in his eyes. “I somehow doubt the girl would find intellect attractive.”

Despite her fear, Harry walked purposefully forward. 

She kept her tone light but in truth, she was shaking with anger at Lucius and fear at what she was about to do. Her heart was beating a desperate tattoo against her ribcage.

“Hi Sev.” She didn’t know where the nickname had come from and both men turned to her in surprise. “How has your day been?” 

Without waiting for an answer, she moved to the couch and straddled his lap before leaning down to kiss him. 

His body had stiffened and she read shock all over his face which he quickly schooled. He cupped her face in his hands and moved to kiss her back, moving his lips softly against hers. At no point did his tongue leave his mouth but the slow, soft caress of lips continued.  
She fought back the urge to move away by lacing her fingers through long strands of soft black hair.  
Despite his gentleness, this didn’t feel right at all. 

She broke off the kiss and slid off his lap but she didn’t move away. She laid her head against his chest and closed her eyes and, in a whisper audible to Lucius, she said “I missed you.” before looking up at Lucius, and feigning shock.   
“Mr Malfoy, good evening. I was not told to expect you. I hope you are well?”

Malfoy was not so good at hiding his surprise and stared agape at Harry and Severus.

“What is the meaning of this?” he snarled.

“I don’t know to what you are referring.” Harry smiled benignly, her fingers laced through those of her bondmate.

“You mean to tell me that you were not forced into this?” silver eyes were wide in mock disbelief. 

Harry lifted her head and her eyes narrowed dangerously. “You have offended my mate and you have offended me. I want you to leave our home.” 

Lucius turned to Severus and gave him a questioning look.

“This is as much her home as mine. She has every right to ask you to leave and even if she didn’t, I would make the same request. Leave, now.” Snape said calmly.

Lucius stood with graceful fluidity and walked out of their chambers.

Harry scrambled off the couch the moment the portrait swung shut. 

Snape stood at the same time and stared at her aghast. “Potter! What have you done?” 

She stepped away from him.  
“Do you have any idea what your actions will cost? You idiotic girl!” Snape seethed.   
What had the imbecile been thinking? Lucius was a ministry official – perhaps she had thought that she was preventing the annulment of the bond? She had no idea what she had just done.  
Harry interrupted his thoughts. “He was offending you. It wasn’t right. He has no justification the-there are reasons someone would w… I wanted to show him he was wrong.” Her eyes blazed in his direction. “I don’t like bullies.” She said emphatically, her eyes hard.

Snape was stunned. The girl was defending his integrity – not the bond.

Calmer than a moment before but still fuming, Snape spoke; “Harry, Lucius is ministry official. He will inform the ministry of the nature of our bond.”  
Harry looked confused.

“Because of your actions, the ministry will be informed that our bond is of an intimate nature. That image is the one they will expect us to sustain.”

Typical of a Gryffindor, Potter had rushed in to rescue Snape without a thought of the consequences and now she was going to pay. Snape watched as the full gravity of the situation was realized by Harry.

“Does-does that mean they expect us to consummate the bond?” Harry’s voice shook with ill-concealed fear.

“Once Lucius has spoken to them, then I expect so, yes.” Snape’s black eyes bored into Harry’s. “Pot- Harry, I still fully intend never to force myself onto you. We will find a way around this. Please understand that. You have however just made our situation considerably more difficult because our bond will be under scrutiny.”

“What do I say to Ron and Hermione?” Harry asked, wide eyed.

“Not the truth.” Snape looked seriously at her. “The fewer people that know the truth, the easier the pretence is to sustain.”

Harry’s brown eyes turned pleadingly to his. “Must we sustain it?”

“I believe so, yes. Lucius will almost certainly inform the Ministry. There is little we can do to change that.” This was entirely her fault. She made her bed, now she must lie in it. 

They would have to get to know one another far better if they were going to play this off. They had been putting it off for long enough.

X X X

They sat in front of the fire, each with a drink.

“We will each ask each other questions. We each must answer as honestly and openly as possible. If you do not wish to answer the question, you may skip it but then I may ask another. You may start first.” Snape spoke evenly.

Harry had to think for a while, her thoughts scattered because of her nerves. “Did you always want to teach Potions?” was safe enough, she thought.

“No. I wanted my Potions Mastery so I could sell potions to Apothecaries. I would have preferred to teach Defence.” Snape replied. “What is it that you intend to do after 7th year?”.

“If I survived this, I sort of wanted to join a Professional Quidditch team…”.  
Snape snorted. 

“… but they would only put me on the team because of my name. I don’t want that. Now, I’m not really sure.” Harry finished quietly.  
Snape was surprised at the admission. She did not want to be favoured for her name? That was truly a surprise.

Harry had a question she really wanted to ask. “How did you know my mum?”  
Snape shivered despite the warmth of his spot in front of the fire. “We were neighbours – of a sort – before Hogwarts. We were friends by the time we came here.”  
“You were friends?” Harry repeated, shocked.   
“It’s my turn, I believe, Miss Potter.” Snape smirked. “What have you stolen from my potions stores?”  
“Hey! That’s not a question about getting to know me.” Harry interjected.  
Snape arched an eyebrow. “Yours wasn’t either.”  
Touché. “I haven’t stolen anything.” Harry said honestly.  
Snape’s eyes narrowed.

“Hermione took stuff for Polyjuice Potion in Second year and Dobby took the Gillyweed.” Harry added. “You just jumped to conclusions.”

Impressive for second years Snape thought. “For what were you brewing Polyjuice?” Snape asked curiously. 

“It’s my turn, I believe, Professor Snape” Harry turned his words against him and he smirked at her wit. 

 

Harry avoided questions about his family in fear that they would be turned on her. “Uhh, do you have a home outside of Hogwarts?”

“There is a Snape Manor, yes. It isn't much.” Snape thought for a while and then asked his question. “Would you want to become an auror?”

Harry pondered this question for a while before answering. “No. if I manage to kill Voldemort and I’m still alive, I want to get away from this. I’m tired of fighting.”

Snape knew exactly what she meant. This was the second time she had insinuated her belief that she was going to die, he noted, feeling uncomfortable at the thought. Such a large burden for one so young.

An awkward silence followed and Harry spoke without thinking. “Why did you hate me before you knew me?” The words sounded foolish and she wanted to retract them.

“Because you are your father’s daughter.” Snape said coolly.

The answer made little sense to Harry and for some reason, the words stung. He hadn’t denied hating her.

“What was the blank parchment I found you with in third year?” If the girl wanted to play hard, he would too.

“I’ll skip that one.” She replied evasively.  
“Tell me about the Dursleys.”

Harry’s mouth went dry. “The parchment is a map of the school. You have to use a password to see it. That’s why it was blank.” She answered the first instead, trying to feign ignorance of the second.  
Interesting. She had chosen not to answer the question about her family. He stored that little piece of information in the back of his mind for later review. 

He would have to see how this map worked. “May I see it?”

Harry hesitated and then nodded before fetching the map. She passed him the blank parchment and he stared at it.

“May I keep this?” he asked. “I will return it.” She nodded again reluctantly. 

Snape looked at her expectantly and she sighed. “You uhm – tap it with your wand and say: ‘I solemnly swear I’m up to no good.’”  
Harry wanted to snatch the parchment back but she stopped herself. She had already incited his ire with the Lucius incident earlier, and dared not anger him again.

Snape tucked it into his robes to look at later and waited for Harry’s question.   
“Why do you dislike my father?” 

“Because he was an arrogant, foolhar-” Snape faltered “I’ll skip that one.” Perhaps insulting her father wasn’t the wisest idea.

“Why did you take the Dark Mark?”

Snape ground his teeth together. “I was promised power and knowledge. I was young and foolish. It is one of my greatest regrets.”

It was a feeble excuse and Snape’s mind scrabbled for the next question.

“Why do you dislike the Dursleys?” Snape reworded his previous question assuming her dislike was the reason she hadn’t answered. 

“Because they don’t like me.” She stated circuitously.   
Snape waited for her to elaborate but she didn’t.

“Did you like my mother?” Harry asked.

“Very much. She was intelligent and brave. She is the kindest person I have ever known.”

Harry bowed her head and when she raised it, her eyes shone with unshed tears. Snape wondered if it was with fierce pride or sorrow at never having known Lily. 

“Did you date Cedric?” Snape shocked even himself with the question. He'd wondered ever since witnessing her reaction to his death.

“I-I hadn’t really got around to dating yet. I suppose I won’t now.” The last was said more to herself.

The Girl Who Lived hadn’t dated yet? Her father had dated about fifty girls by the time he was her age. Arrogant and big headed as he was. Maybe that was a bit of an exaggeration but the number had been large. Snape didn’t know if he believe Harry.

“Were you in a relationship before this-“ Harry gesticulated feebly, trying to put whatever /this/ was into words. Finding nothing, she finished lamely: “thing?” gesturing between them.

“Eloquently put, Miss Potter.” Snape smirked again but this time in mirth at her stupidity. ”But no. I wasn’t in anything committed when we entered the bond.”

Harry nodded awkwardly.

Wondering how deeply the lack of dating went, Snape decided to probe some more. “Have you kissed someone?” he asked “Other than me?” he added as an afterthought, thinking of today's events.

Harry nodded but, once again, didn’t elaborate.

Snape pored another glass while Harry thought.

“Who are you playing chess with?” Snape looked up from the drinks, questioningly.  
“That board is half way through a game.” She pointed at the chess board.

“Oh, that. My goddaughter comes over reasonably often and we play. She hasn’t come in a while.”

“Malfoy?” 

“Yes Harry.” Snape sipped his drink. “She’s coming over for dinner soon. I thought perhaps you would help me cook.”

Harry’s hazel eyes widened “You want me to be there?”

“You are my bond mate.” Snape nodded stiffly, and made to change the topic as swiftly as possible. “Why do you wear those clothes?” Snape’s nose wrinkled in apparent distain and he nodded towards her outfit.

Harry couldn’t keep the hurt out of her voice. “You don’t like what I wear?” 

“The items are all tattered and oversized.” Surely, she had better clothing to wear.

“They- They’re the only muggle clothes I have.” Harry raised her arms and looked down at herself. 

Her clothing had always been an insecurity of hers. It seemed Severus was ashamed of her appearance and that stung.  
“Why have you not bought new ones or altered them with magic?” Snape raised his wand.  
“NO! Please, the Dursleys don’t approve of magic. They’ll see if they are different.” Harry sounded panicked. “A-and they don’t know about the Gringotts vault.”

The selfish piece of work sponged off her relatives and didn’t even attempt to recompense them. No wonder the Dursleys had left. It was entirely Potter’s fault that they were in this situation in the first place.

“If the Dursleys return, you will apologise for your secrecy and reimburse them some of the money they have spent on you. It is shameful that you would keep this from them.” Snape said in anger.  
Snape saw anger flash through her eyes which fuelled his own irritation. “Why wouldn’t you tell them?”

“You have no right to ask that. You have no right to force me to tell them. You don’t know how much they hate me. You assume too much.” Angry tears filled her eyes.

“Tell me then Potter. Tell me of their neglect. Tell me of the horrors you have faced at their hands.” Snape’s sarcasm was obvious.

Tears trickled down her cheeks and she pursed her lips. She didn’t say a word.

“Exactly. You have no story to tell because you have never been neglected. You are spoilt and conceited. You don’t know what the meaning of abuse is Potter. You have never stopped to consider the sacrifice they have made. They do not hate you Potter but if they did, it would be entirely deserved.” Snape hissed. 

Harry held back anguished sobs. She wanted to scream at the injustice of it.  
Perhaps Snape was right. Perhaps she had deserved the hatred she got.

She had thought perhaps this bond wasn’t so terrible. She thought that they might have been able to make this work but now that seemed impossible. Snape despised her and that hurt in a way nothing had before.

Snape watched her futile attempts to hide her emotions. She had never been good at disguising them. He felt a stab of guilt at the bare agony in her eyes.

“I’m sorry Potter. I didn’t mean…” he faltered.

“I think I should go to bed.” She said, valiantly keeping her voice from breaking.

“Good night, Harry.”

“Good night, Severus.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I crave reviews. Feed me ;P


	10. Stolen Kisses

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry for the slow update. I've been getting stuff ready for university (I start 1st year on the 31st on Jan) and I haven't gotten round to it. This is a really long chapter so I hope that makes up for the time you have waited.  
> Updates will be slow from now on but this fic wont be abandoned. I have the full plan written out and I'm really enjoying writing this.  
> You have made this experience incredible with all the positive comments you have left. 
> 
> To those of you that asked questions or want to see answers to other peoples questions, they will be answered at the end. 
> 
> Bullwinkle, Sasel and Kelsea, AO3: Your comments made me smile the widest. Thank you!
> 
> This chapter is dedicated to Alan Rickman, rest in peace. Your family is in my thoughts.  
> (Chapter edited in Jan 2018)

Snape and Harry lay in the darkness, but neither was sleeping. Minutes stretched on in silence.  
Snape’s head throbbed. Severus worked out that the bond was responsible for these headaches about two weeks after the bond’s initiation. If he ever aggravated or upset Harry, headaches would develop.

“What I said wasn’t true.” Snape said awkwardly, sitting up.  
Harry turned her back on him.  
“You’re not like your father. I see Lily in you too.” Snape didn’t feel the need to say any more.

She turned and Severus, expecting her forgiveness was startled to see anger clearly reflected in her eyes. 

“I don’t want to be like either of them.” She glowered at him and pushed herself into a seated position. “I want to be my own person. I’m sick of people expecting me to be the person they believe me to be instead of the one I am. I want to be Harry, not the ‘girl who lived’.” Somewhere in the rant, anger turned to anguish. “I didn’t choose any of this. I didn’t want to be famous for something I can’t even remember. Something that destroyed my life completely. I hate that people assume that they know me without trying to get to know me. No one even tries!” She hugged her knees to herself in a futile attempt to gain comfort. “I want to be Harry. Just Harry.”

Snape was completely disconcerted. “Potter, I”

“DON’T CALL ME THAT!” Her hands balled into fists and she shoved Snape away. “You hated my father. I can see it in your face every time you say that name. I see it every time you look at me. I’m not like him. How could I be when I never even knew him?” Her anger at injustice of the situation was bubbling up and spewing out of her like lava. The years of Snape’s mistreatment had finally driven Harry to breaking point. 

Snape knew she was right about him hating James Potter. He was incapable of disguising that hatred.

When he looked at Harry however, it wasn’t her father he saw, it was his demons. He saw his greatest regrets and mistakes.

It was hatred at himself that she saw when he looked at her. 

“I don’t hate you anymore, Harry.” Snape tried again.

She flopped back down and turned her back on him. “You shouldn’t have hated me in the first place. Not before you actually knew who I was.”

Snape shifted. With lightning fast reflexes, Harry’s arms were held protectively over her face.

Snape couldn’t understand how his actions, albeit violent, on the first night of the bond, still left her shying away over a month later. This was a serious overreaction in his mind.

Harry seemed to realise that no punishment was forthcoming and she lowered her arms.

“I won’t hurt you.” Snape griped in irritation.

Harry flushed but hid the redness behind the glare she shot Snape. She turned her head away again and rested it on her pillow.

“Why do you mistrust me?” Severus asked.

Because you’ve given me reason to mistrust you. Because you are stronger than I am. Because you are an adult. The words were there but she’d never say them. Harry clenched her jaw and said nothing.

“Harry please, I’m sorry.” Snape injected as much sincerity into those words as he could muster.

 

Harry knew she was treading on thin ice now but being around Snape this long, she was certain she had been infected with his snarkiness.

“If you insist on apologising, I want to know why.” Her voice was muffled in her pillow as she spoke words Snape himself had used on her.

Snape rolled his eyes. “I’m sorry for insulting your parents.” He started.

Come on Snape. There’s a whole lot more – Harry thought venomously. But Snape was already continuing.

“I’m sorry for comparing them to you. I’m sorry for hating you before I had met you and for making assumptions about your character. You have gone a long way to proving those assumptions wrong. You still go rushing into dangerous situations with little regard for the rules but many find that to be an admirable trait. It shows you to be brave. Or stupid.” Harry snorted. “I’m sorry for showing my hatred – it was inappropriate. I’m sorry for singling you out in class. I’m sorry for pushing you on that first night and I promise I won’t do it again. I’m sorry that I frightened you.” Snape actually meant these apologies. He knew he had much more to apologise for. 

He should apologise most of all for betraying the Potters to Voldemort because in doing so, he had destroyed Harry’s life. He would never admit it but Snape was scared about Potter finding out.  
With each new apology, Harry’s eyes widened. She had expected the first few but the last hadn’t been needed. Snape was a proud man and she knew the admissions must have cost him. She couldn’t help but still be angry at him. He had treated her with cruelty for years and one apology could alter that. Perhaps nothing ever could but she felt grateful that he had tried. She didn’t say she had forgiven him because she hadn’t; instead, with her face still turned she said: “Thank you.”

“Do you forgive me?” Snape questioned.

Her answer was succinct. “No.”

Severus sighed. It seemed Potter wasn’t going to make this easy for him. At least the headache had faded, that was a good sign wasn’t it?

Harry’s breathing gradually evened out and Snape knew she had fallen asleep.

X X X

Harry stood on a stone dais, held fast by the arms of a granite statue.   
Voldemort stood in front of her, surrounded by his Death Eaters and Cedric lay dead on the floor.  
She had stopped struggling when she realised the attempts were futile. Now she watched the Snake-like-man with his fawning servants, trying to muster her courage.  
Voldemort spoke to his death eaters.  
*"You know, of course, that they have called this girl my downfall?" Voldemort said softly, his red eyes upon Harry, whose scar began to burn so fiercely that she almost screamed in agony. "You all know that on the night I lost my powers and my body, I tried to kill her. Her mother died in the attempt to save her - and unwittingly provided her with a protection I admit I had not foreseen. ... I could not touch the girl."  
　　Voldemort raised one of his long white fingers and put it very close to Harry's cheek.  
　　"Her mother left upon her the traces of her sacrifice. . . . This is old magic, I should have remembered it, I was foolish to overlook it... but no matter. I can touch her now."  
　　Harry felt the cold tip of the long white finger touch her, and thought her head would burst with the pain. Voldemort laughed softly in her ear, then took the finger away and continued addressing the Death Eaters.  
　　"I miscalculated, my friends, I admit it. My curse was deflected by the woman's foolish sacrifice, and it rebounded upon myself. Aaah . . . pain beyond pain, my friends; nothing could have prepared me for it. I was ripped from my body, I was less than spirit, less than the meanest ghost. . . but still, I was alive.* In all this time, something has trouble me, my friends. Yes, the girl had survived, and I had lost the means to help myself but that could be remedied. No, there was something else. . . I, who had suffered much never got the chance to see her suffer.” Voldemort’s eyes flashed scarlet. “I want to see the pain she felt when I cursed her. I want to see her suffer as I have suffered.”  
Voldemort turned to Harry. “I have waited too long Harry. I want to see you writhe in agony before I let you die.”

The cruciatus curse then? Harry thought. She gritted her teeth and prepared herself for the pain she knew would come. Her eyes clenched shut and then she heard him speak in a sinister hiss.

She couldn’t make out his words but the sound was unnerving. It was like he wasn’t breathing. There was an unbroken chain of sibilant whispers issuing from his snake-like mouth.

Harry felt rather than saw his magic. It was oppressive and heavy. Darkness wrapped its way around her and just before it consumed her, she made out the words “Dolor Retractatur.” She knew what the words meant; pain repeated. . .  
Darkness fell and then, all she knew was agony. 

X X X

Severus woke to the sound of Harry pleading for Cedric’s life. She was struggling against invisible bonds and then she stilled. There was no movement and no sound for a few minutes and Severus believed that the nightmare had ended. He lay back down and was about to close his eyes when something happened.  
Harry began to writhe, clutching her forehead. Her mouth was open in a silent scream. For a few confusing seconds, Severus wondered if she had used a silencing charm but that wasn’t possible, he had heard her cries only moments ago.  
Severus called out Harry’s name but didn’t touch her. The silence stretched on and Severus reached for his wand to disrupt the silencing charm that couldn’t possibly be there, when Potter began to pant. Air hissed in through clenched teeth and came out in short, rapid puffs. Definitely not a silencing charm then, Snape thought.   
Harry still clenched her forehead and Severus wouldn’t be surprised if the fingernails left puncture wounds. Harry continued to writhe. In truth, only seconds had passed but this felt like an eternity to Severus.  
“Potter!” This came out as a shout and Harry’s writhing stilled. She curled into a ball, her arms wrapped protectively around herself and her body shook with silent sobs.  
Severus watched her thumb rub soothing circles into her shoulders and she rocked backwards and forwards, like a child trying to gain comfort. This was habitual, it seemed. Potter tended to sooth herself whenever she was sad or scared.

Severus felt and urge to pull her in to his arms like a parent would a small child after they had had a nightmare. He wanted to tell her that that was all it was; a nightmare but that was a lie because it had actually happened.

Severus shook himself. This was Potter. Potter didn’t want or need his comfort. Without a word, he held out vial of dreamless sleep.  
She shook, whether from pain, fear or sadness, Severus did not know, but she fumbled the vial. She didn’t seem fully awake and she slumped forward slightly. Severus stopped her fall.

“Here, let me.” Severus’ smooth deep voice seemed to act like a calming draught. He pulled the stopper from the vial and, with a hand supporting the back of Harry’s head, he poured its contents into her mouth and she swallowed.  
Severus lowered her gently onto her pillow and her eyelids drooped, as Severus soothed the hair from her face. She looked so much like Lily when her eyes were closed that the sight frightened Severus. He did not want to see his ghosts in his waking hours too. The fates weren’t fair.

He moved away from her as quickly as possible. Best not to linger.

X X X

Harry had patchy memories of last night. She remembered waking from one of her recurring nightmares. She thought Snape had fed her the dreamless sleep but she wasn’t certain. The room was empty when she woke. Snape had woken before her then. 

Harry dreaded going down to the Great Hall that morning. If what Snape said was true, there may well be new articles in the Prophet about the ‘true’ nature of their bond.

Her fears were unfortunately justified.

It seemed the entire Hall was watching her. No whispers broke out; there was dead silence. First and seventh years alike stared openly, many with a look of disgust, some looked at her with pity. She didn’t appreciate either stare.

She pretended to ignore them and kept walking at a normal pace to her seat. 

Ron, it seemed was absolutely repulsed by the development. Harry could see from the look on his face. It was the look he usually reserved for Malfoy.  
And spiders.

Hermione immediately passed her the Prophet and pointed to the part she should read. Hermione had taken to finding the absolutely necessary parts of each article so that Harry had to read as little of it as possible.

“A new source, that has asked to remain anonymous has confirmed, last night, that the Bond between Harriet Potter and Severus Snape is intimate in nature.  
The informant, that was sent by the Ministry to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry in order to ascertain the validity of the bond, says that the couple displayed affection towards each other.  
Will the apparently happy couple be…”

Harry stopped reading. Of course, Snape had been right. The sly snake that was Lucius Malfoy had informed the ministry and, it seemed, the Daily Prophet.  
“You were ‘affectionate’? What the hell does that mean?” Ron spluttered.  
“It’s not illegal to kiss him Ron.” Harry tried to look indignant.

Ron choked “You WHAT?”  
The article hadn’t mentioned that part then. Harry flushed and turned away from him.

“Shut up Ronald.” Hermione elbowed him. “Harry will talk to us later.”  
“There’s nothing to talk about.” Harry said loud enough for those around them to her. “I did nothing wrong. There’s nothing to explain.”

“You actually like him?” Neville looked utterly betrayed.  
“He isn’t always a snarky git.” Harry shrugged.

Ron snorted in derision. “Yeah right. He’s so perfect that you’d far rather spend all your time sucking up to him over spending time with us. Snape, who’s always treated you like shit.” He turned his back on Harry and her heart twisted painfully. It didn’t take much for Ron to give her the silent treatment. ‘Best friends’ was a relationship Harry was beginning to doubt they shared.  
She turned to Hermione, hoping to see understanding in her eyes, but almost expecting resentment. Hermione reached out and squeezed her shoulder, and relief swelled within Harry.

“Just ignore him” she whispered.

Ron shot her a glare and she scowled back. “You’re being ridiculous Ronald.”  
Ron flushed.

“Harry can kiss whomever she wishes. At least she has the guts to do it.” Hermione looked haughtily at Ron and his flush deepened. 

“Well –“ Ron spluttered for a few moments. It seemed he couldn’t find his words. He stood, grabbed Hermione by the arm and dragged her out of the hall.  
Hermione mouthed a sorry as she was dragged off. She didn't look all too apologetic. 

Some of the Gryffindors snickered.

“It’s taken them long enough.” Seamus chortled.  
Harry was utterly confused. “What are you on about?”

“Ron has a thing for Hermione. He’s been plucking up the courage to ask her out for months.” Dean explained.  
Harry felt something inside of her stir. The dragon that had taken residence in her chest, reared its ugly, great head and roared its displeasure.

Another part of her felt guilty for the jealousy. The attention wasn’t unwanted by Hermione. Harry had seen the way Hermione looked at him.

X X X

The days passed obscenely slowly 

Harry desperately missed Ron and Hermione. The pair were getting closer to each other and seemingly further from her. She couldn’t prevent the occasional stab of jealousy.

They were sitting at dinner in the Great Hall but Harry wasn’t eating. She speared her potato violently with her fork and glared at the back of Ron’s head. He had his face turned towards Hermione and he was sweeping hair out of her face and tucking it behind her ear. Hermione blushed and Harry growled internally. Her dragon roared in agreement. 

She itched to do the same but those feelings were so wrong. She pushed them into the deepest recesses of her consciousness and distracted by stuffing a forkful of lamb into her mouth and chewing it with vigour.

“Harry?”  
Hermione’s voice broke her out of her reverie.  
“What’s wrong?”  
“Nothing.” Harry said a little too quickly.  
“Have you finished your homework?” Harry and Ron both nodded.  
Hermione looked pointedly at Ron.  
“Uuh, actually I have a bit of charms practice to do.” Ron corrected. “See you guys later.”

Harry looked curiously at Hermione.   
“Come on,” she smiled at Harry. “let’s go to that old charms classroom. I want to talk to you.”

X X X

“Is it Snape?” Hermione asked once they reached the classroom.  
“Is what Snape?”   
“You don’t seem yourself.” Hermione’s eyes clearly showed her concern. “Do you like him Harry or has he hurt you?” 

Harry didn’t answer. 

This time, in almost a whisper, Hermione turned to her; “Do you like Ron?”

Whatever Harry had expected Hermione to say, it was not that.“What?! No!.” Harry said in undisguised shock. “Why would you-?”

Hermione interrupted her. “Oh, well you uhh- seem angry if he – you know?”

“Hermione it’s not that.” Harry insisted, her heart twisting painfully.

“Well, what is it then?” Hermione looked exasperated.

“Just drop it ok?” 

“I won’t drop it. You aren’t okay and I want to know why.” Hermione scrutinised her.

“It doesn’t matter.” Harry swept hair angrily out of her eyes and turned away.

Hermione advanced on Harry, tugging her around by her shoulder. She glared stubbornly at Harry. 

“It does matter. I want to know and I’m not going to dro-“

Harry’s hands tangled in Hermione’s bushy, brown hair and she leant in to kiss her – breaking her off mid-sentence. 

The kiss was insistent and desperate and her teeth grazed Hermione’s lower lip. Hermione’s body was soft and warm and to Harry, the kiss was like breathing again.

There was something that felt familiar and comfortable about her softness; like coming home. This was nothing like her kiss with Snape.

Her tongue moved tentatively against Hermione’s lips, begging an entrance she knew she wouldn’t get.

Harry felt feeble arms attempt to push her away and realised what she was doing. Hermione didn’t want this. Harry jumped back gasping an apology.

Hermione’s fingers ghosted her own kiss swollen lips, her eyes wide with shock. She let out a single, soft “Oh.”

“I didn’t want you to ask.” There was anguish in Harry’s voice.

“I did’t – I wasn’t..” Hermione, for once, had no idea what to do. “I don’t like girls Harry.”

Tears stung Harry’s eyes. What had she just done? She turned and ran out of the room.

 

Hermione didn’t go after her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *JK Rowling's words, not mine* 
> 
> Answers:
> 
> Dem Bones- FanFiction.net: This will not be a Hermione/Harry fic but that doesnt mean it will be a Snarry either. (Snarry is my OTP though if anyone wants to know. ;)). I know you think Harry is "spineless" and she is to an extent. She concedes to easily to authority figures but there is a reason for that. She does not trust adults and she has grown to expect punishments from them because of the Dursleys.  
> It is crucially important that she avoids injuries now because of the curse so she will be more cautious than JK's Harry. This doesn't mean she lacks independence, she is merely adjusting and Snape is going to have to work to earn her trust.
> 
> I'm sorry that Snape is ruining the story for you but he is snarky by nature and he does think Harry is like her father. He does have backwards perspectives about her nature. I don't enjoy fics that completely alter characters to serve their story-line. Relationships are messy and confusing (talking like I have experience, which I don't) and I want to reflect that. 
> 
> I'm so glad you all want to punch Snape (sorry Alan, I do love you and Snape a little too much) because it shows a level of passion for the garble I'm writing. Thank you so much.  
> I love you all for your comments, even the ones with constructive criticism, you are helping so much!
> 
> Lots of love, LRW  
> xxx


	11. Saved by the bell

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello lovely people,
> 
> Thanks for all your support. I have another long one for you.
> 
> Hello (AO3): I forgot to mention you last chapter, but your comment also made me super happy.)  
> Drake Rise (ff.net): Please don't stress too much! I'll try to make what ever ship I have planned wonderful. (I'm not admitting to Drarry of Snarry or any of the other guesses quite yet.)
> 
> I love you all, good night! (I'm going to bed now because it is really late and I am obscenely tired).  
> Longrandomword  
> (there's a funny story behind that name.)  
> Enjoy!
> 
> (chapter edited January 2018)

Harry found the nearest girls bathroom and ducked into a cubicle. She didn’t hold back tears this time. They came out in choked sobs; her body shook with the weight of them.  
She hadn’t even cried like this when Cedric had died.  
She tried to hold herself up with her arms on either wall of the cubicle but she slowly slipped to the floor. The pain was too awful. Her chest felt altogether impossibly tight and like it was about to explode.

She held her chest as if that could somehow contain the pain she felt.

She hated how she felt; it was unnatural to feel the way she did about girls. She hated that she had acted on her feelings; she hated that Hermione didn’t want her back. She hated that she was bonded to Snape; something she had been forced into, like everything else in her life. She hated that she had kissed him because now, she may never get to be with anyone else. She may never get to be with a girl. She hated herself even more for wanting that in the first place. 

She cried for the injustice of it. She cried for Cedric. She cried for her parents and for the hurt the Dursleys had caused her. She seldom let herself cry and now that the flood gates had been opened, all the years of pent up emotions were released in a deluge of hurt. 

There was a knock on the cubicle door; Harry jumped at the sound. Could it possibly be Hermione? 

She didn’t want to face Hermione right now, or anyone else for that matter. She tried to control the shaking in her voice. “Go away!”

“Why are you crying?” came the muffled reply. It wasn’t Hermione but Harry recognised the voice. 

She wracked her brain but couldn’t work it out. It didn’t really matter, she didn’t want to see anyone. “GO AWAY!”

“No” the voice replied. The girl sat stubbornly on the floor, her back to the door. “I want to know why you are crying.”  
“Who are you?” Harry mumbled.  
“Seriously? You really are thick.” The voice said snidely. Harry could practically hear the eyeroll.

“Malfoy?!” Harry asked, incredulous.

Draconian snorted. “Yes you dolt.”

“Why the hell would you care?” Harry huffed swiping at her puffy eyes.

“I don’t know. My godfather seems to care; there must be a reason, right?” 

“Just leave, alright?” Harry thumped a fist against the door.

“Not until you get yourself out here and explain why you are crying.” Malfoy said stubbornly.  
“It’s none of your business.” Harry stood against the wall of her cubicle, her arms folded, occasionally swiping at her face with her fist. She just wanted to be on her own.

“True, it’s not my business but it is Sev’s. I can go call him if you like?” Malfoy inquired.  
“No! Don’t!” Harry practically shouted as she hurriedly unlocked the stall door and pulled it open. Malfoy fell backwards on to the stone floor and Harry stepped over her flustered form to get to the basin. She splashed her face with cool water and took a few deep breaths, holding onto the edge of the sink for support.  
“Merlin Potter!” Draco exclaimed. “You could give a girl some warning!”  
Harry turned a steely glare in Draco’s direction. “You were the one who blackmailed me.” She said indignantly.

“Black mail? I didn’t blackmail you Potter; I asked if you wanted me to bring your bond-mate because you are clearly upset about something. How is THAT Blackmail?”

Harry grumbled into the mirror.

“What was that?” Malfoy asked distractedly, sweeping the dust of her robes, her nose wrinkled in disgust. She pulled out a wand and Harry’s hand moved instinctively to her own. Draco was in the midst of casting cleaning charms when looked up at Harry’s outstretched wand and smirked. “Jumpy much, are we?” She said slyly.

“Years of you throwing hexes at me would do that, yeah.” Harry griped tucking her wand away. She turned to leave the bathroom. 

“Hey! We had a deal.” Harry could actually hear the pout in Malfoy’s voice.

She cursed to herself, she had hoped Malfoy had forgotten. 

Harry sighed. “It’s Hermione. She-she isn’t talking to me because she’s-“ Harry scrabbled for a reason other than the real one. “she’s angry about the whole Snape ‘intimacy’ thing.” Harry lied. 

“Ah, so the golden trio is falling apart?” Draco said sarcastically.  
Harry turned back towards the door. She wasn’t going to take snarky remarks from Malfoy too.

“Wait! Wait, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that.” Draco darted after Harry. “Truce?” she held out a hand.  
Harry narrowed her eyes in Malfoys direction. “I don’t like you.” She said matter of factly.

“Great, we’re in agreement then.” Malfoy grinned at her, her hand still outstretched.  
She hesitated for almost a minute, searching Malfoys face to see if this was some sort of ploy, then she stepped forward and shook Malfoys hand inwardly vowing to keep a closer watch on the Slytherin.

Malfoy grinned broadly at her and then the smile faltered. “You look awful.” She exclaimed. “Here, let me.” She pointed her wand into Harry’s face and before she could react, Malfoy had cast a spell.  
The stuffiness of her nose cleared up immediately and, turning to the mirror, Harry saw that her eyes were no longer red and swollen. “Uhhh, thanks.” Harry said in astonishment.

“Yeah, yeah. I know, I’m fantastic.” Draco swept into a sarcastic bow. “It is a Malfoy’s duty to always look presentable. One of our duties, anyway.” she tried to fill the silence “We had better get back before curfew.” Malfoy turned and opened the door with graceful ease before stepping into corridor.  
She walked alongside Harry towards the dungeons in silence that didn’t last.   
“They’re being idiotic.” Malfoy said awkwardly.   
“They?” Harry asked in confusion. 

“Weasley and Grainger are being idiotic.” Malfoy clarified. “I’m glad really.” 

“You’re glad that my friends are ignoring me?” Harry asked in annoyance. 

“No Potter! I’m glad about you and Sev. He needed someone, you know?” Malfoy had stopped walking for a few seconds but then she moved forward. “You like him, right?”

Harry felt a twinge of guilt. Snape hadn’t found someone. She nodded but didn’t speak for her tongue felt thick in her mouth. They had reached Snape’s chambers and Malfoy said a quick goodbye before rushing off to her common room so she could get back before curfew.

Harry watched her go, still feeling miserable. 

X X X

Snape scrutinised Harry from the opposite couch. They each had a drink but Harry’s rested on the side table. 

Harry’s fingers were rubbing circles into her upper arms. From what she had said, her day had been normal but her tell said otherwise.

“What’s wrong Harry?” Snape asked, not looking directly at her.

She looked up and smiled. “Nothing.” She lied, a little too easily.

Snape was going to press further when the floo alert sounded.

The pair looked towards the fire and saw Albus Dumbledore staring back at them out of the flames.

“Would you care to join me in my office?” Dumbledore looked at both of them.

“It’s late, headmaster” Snape replied, trying to dissuade the old man.

“I am aware of the lateness of the hour and I apologise but the meeting is necessary.”

Snape exhaled slowly. “Very well, we will be there shortly.” He glanced to Harry to confirm this and she nodded.

A few moments later, Harry stepped through the floo, followed by Severus.

The Headmasters office was already occupied when they entered but it took Harry a few seconds to register who it was. 

“Remus! Siri!” she exclaimed in delight, when she saw her godfather and her favourite defence professor.   
Sirius had already strode past her and he had his wand against Snape’s neck.   
“I warned you.” he growled. “I warned you to stay away from her!” 

Harry’s heart leapt and she ran forward. “No Siri!” Harry grabbed her godfather’s wand arm with both of hers and tried to pull it away. “Look at me Siri. Sirius! LOOK AT ME!” she was bordering on frantic because Black wasn’t listening.

His eyes slid to hers and his expression softened infinitesimally. 

Harry took the opening. “I kissed him, not the other way round.”

Sirius’ expression turned ugly as his eyes turned back to Snape. “What did old Snivily do? Did he force you?”

Harry was appalled at Sirius’ words. “What did you call him?” She asked dangerously.

“Snivilus should know his place.”

“Don’t call him that!” Harry shouted. 

Sirius continued, his expression unrecognisable. “I warned him that if he so much as touched you, I was going to kill him.”

Sirius lunged forward and Harry positioned herself between the men, her arms raised. “But he didn’t. You’re not listening, I kissed him.” Harry said angrily.

Sirius faltered, a look of confusion crossing his face. “What? Why?” he said sharply, gazing at her searchingly.

Harry swallowed. She didn’t know what she could say but then Snape spoke for her.

“She walked into our chambers and overheard a conversation between Lucius and myself.” He was focused on an object near the ground as Sirius and Remus turned to him. “She was defending my integrity to fulfil some foolish Gryffindor notion. I’ll admit, I kissed her back.”

Sirius stiffened and his grip on his wand tightened. Remus stepped forward and touched his shoulder. Sirius turned towards the touch and a look passed between them. His stance relaxed and his grip on his wand slackened. “I apologise for the assumption.” Sirius said stiffly, in Snape’s direction at another prod from Lupin.   
Remus remained at his side, their shoulders touching.

Snape nodded curtly. 

Sirius looked icily at him “I will not hold back if this happens again.”

“I am afraid that is not your decision to make.” Dumbledore interjected.

Sirius eyes hardened. “She is my goddaughter. It is my duty to protect her. I will not let this- this man harm her.” He pointed an index in Snape’s direction.

“If Severus harms her, he will have far worse than you to deal with.” Dumbledore said calmly. Snape opened his mouth in outrage and Dumbledore silenced him with a gesture. “I however trust Severus implicitly not to do so.” Snape calmed and Sirius looked appeased at the thought of Dumbledore’s retribution. 

Silence followed.

Harry seemingly couldn’t contain herself any longer. She flitted forwards and hugged Sirius and then Remus, gushing ‘how-are-yous’ and ‘I-missed-yous”.  
Remus ruffled her hair and Sirius swept her up in a tight hug, spinning in a circle before lowering her down.   
Snape stood back self-consciously as the three caught up. He couldn’t help but feel that he was intruding.   
After what seemed an age to Severus and mere moments to Harry, Dumbledore interrupted the reunion. 

“I am afraid I have to speak with Severus and Harry alone.”

Sirius opened his mouth to interject but then seemed to think better of it. He turned to Harry “I will see you soon.” He held her by her shoulders at arm’s length and stared fixedly at her. “Send me a letter if you need me and I will find a way to get to you.” He said seriously.

“Goodbye Harry.” Remus hugged her tight. “Stay out of trouble, kiddo.” She nodded against his neck and held on, looking like something precious was being taken away from her before the men stepped through the floo. 

X X X

Snape and Harry sat, side by side, in front of Dumbledore’s desk. Dumbledore had just had a muttered conversation with a portrait on the right wall of his office and the man had stepped out of his frame and disappeared.  
“Well Harry, Severus; are you doing well together?” Dumbledore asked jovially.  
Neither replied. “Has the bond strengthened your magic at all?” Dumbledore tried again.  
“Not noticeably.” Snape fixed his gaze on the desk. He had the inclination to fit, and scream at the headmaster. His moronic plan had landed them in this mess, and for the most part, they were magically weaker than ever before, but his eyes slid to Harry, who was slumped morosely in her seat, and he couldn’t bring himself to say something. At least not in front of her.

“Ah,” Dumbledore said calmly. “I see. And may I ask why you think that might be?” Harry got the distinct impression that Dumbledore was x-raying them.

Harry fidgeted nervously and Snape sighed. “I haven’t an inkling headmaster.” There was a note of sarcasm in his voice.

“Is your magic weakened?” Dumbledore asked, leaning forward in his chair slightly.

This time Harry answered. “Occasionally, but not at the moment.”

“Well that, at least, is a sign of progress. I do hope that you will work to strengthen the bond.” He said, and there was the slightest edge of disappointment in his voice.

Progress, my arse – though Severus venomously. 

Harry and Snape both nodded, both looking sour.

The man in one of the portraits that had earlier disappeared, jogged into his frame and held his knees huffing until he caught his breath.

“Ah, Everard!” Dumbledore said jovially. “Did you manage to speak with Talbethase?”

“Yes” the man wheezed. “He was present for the meeting. He says Mr Malfoy showed them a short segment of a memory as evidence.”

“Thank you, Everard. That will be all.” Dumbledore turned back to his desk. “I sent Everard, as I am sure you have realized, to discover the means by which Lucius Malfoy backed up his claims. The proof is definitive and we cannot refute it. That leaves us with a rather interesting predicament.” Dumbledore said over steepled fingers.

“When it comes time for the ministry to assess the bond, they will expect to find memories similar to that of Lucius Malfoy’s. They will expect the pair of you to be openly affectionate.”

“Sir?” Harry interrupted. 

Dumbledore smiled warmly at her. “Yes, Harry?”

“Did you not say that the um ‘nature of our bond’ could be something other than intimate? Surely if I say that I want to be with Pro- Severus at the end of the year period, even if it isn’t intimate, they will not annul the bond?” Hazel eyes watched Dumbledore hopefully.

“They will see the change as an act of deceit, Harry.” Dumbledore explained. “That is grounds enough for annulment.” 

“Could the bond be annulled after the year period?” Harry tried again to find some loophole.

“Not even the ministry could disrupt the bond after that.” Dumbledore said patiently. “The magic of the bond will have grown too strong by then. Breaking it could kill both of you.”  
Harry’s face fell. 

“You intend for us to manufacture memories?” Severus croaked, looking every bit as upset as Harry.  
“Yes.” Dumbledore replied. “Public displays of affection would be equally effective.” 

Snape bared his teeth in a silent snarl.

“Manufacture memories?” Harry asked in confusion.

“I apologise Harry. Let me explain.” Dumbledore said kindly. “You will need to act out scenarios that agree with the act you showed Mr Malfoy, so that when the time comes, you will have a collection of memories of, for want of a better word, evidence.”

One part of Harry was strongly opposed to the idea, but another part of her hoped the acts would be an opportunity to prove herself wrong about her attraction to girls. It would be an opportunity to experiment without actual commitment. Both would know that the acts were just that – an act - a ploy.

She tended to make things stop when she got scared or uncomfortable with boys so she had never really made herself try with them. Perhaps if she forced herself past the discomfort, she would like how it felt.

A small part of her argued that there had been no discomfort to push past when she had kissed Hermione but she quashed it.  
She didn’t want to think about Hermione, or any other girl and now she had a reason not to. She should be grateful. That’s what she told herself.

X X X 

When Snape and Harry re-entered their chambers, Harry downed her glass and refilled it with the decanter.   
Snape didn’t blame her and he certainly didn’t protest. He poured a second glass for himself. 

Snape hadn’t really noticed how much Potter had drunk until he reached for the decanter and found it to be empty – he had only had three glasses. He shouldn’t have let her have that much. She was still underage after all.

Harry stood and swayed dangerously. Snape jumped forward to prevent her from falling.   
“I’m fine.” She slurred, making her words unconvincing. She stepped away from him before taking pyjamas into the bathroom to change. Snape knew from experience how disconcerting the ripples of his bathroom floor could be while drunk so he listened carefully as he too dressed, in case Harry fell.

Harry traipsed back into the bedroom and sat on the edge of the bed, supporting the weight of her head with her hand. 

Severus pulled back the duvet and asked her if she needed help. She shook her head and flopped back onto the bed, her shirt inside out.   
“You’re drunk Harry.” Severus said.  
“Fantastic observation Professor Snape.” Harry slurred.  
She turned clumsily onto her stomach and crawled towards Snape. 

“Cut the sarcasm.” He snickered at her lack of coordination. “It’s time for bed.” She was far too close now and Snape half sat up so he could move away. She climbed over his legs and straddled his thighs.   
“What are you doing Potter? He asked, feebly attempting to roll her off him. Harry lent down to kiss him.

Snape thought about resisting and his brain shorted. Perhaps he had drunk too much himself.  
Perhaps not. 

Snape’s hands moved into her hair and he kissed her back. She pushed him slowly onto the mattress, one arm supporting her weight, never breaking off the kiss. He felt an inexperienced tongue fumble its path along his lips and he opened his mouth. He let her tongue explore his mouth for a while before moving his languidly against hers. 

Her hands twisted in his hair and her fingertips rubbed against his scalp. Harry moaned into his open mouth and she ground her hips into his.  
He grazed her lips with his teeth and felt her respond by pressing herself more insistently into him. 

His mind worked slowly, as if shrouded in a layer of fog. This felt good, he knew he wanted to continue and his left hand moved to her lower back while his right remained tangled in her hair. She was so soft, she was so small. Too small. Too young.

She’s drunk he told himself and his brain registered that something wasn’t right with that.  
I have a drunk fifteen-year-old kissing me. Snape told himself and his brain definitely registered that as wrong. Every part of this was wrong. 

“Stop, Harry.” He said insistently, holding her face away from his.  
She tried to rebel against his hands, pushing herself towards him. She whined nonsensically and continued to grind herself against him. 

Snape’s body was responding and he definitely did not want it to. Every other part of him was screaming that this was wrong.  
As gently as he could, Snape pushed a resisting Harry off of him.  
She wasn’t very strong, especially not in this state and Snape pushed her off him so that she rolled onto her back.

“No!” she pleaded. “I want- please.” Her back arched off the bed in an attempt to regain the lost friction.  
Snape stood and circled the bed. He tucked Harry’s legs under the duvet and pulled it up past her waist. She tried to sit up so he put a resisting hand on her shoulder.   
She moaned in frustration and gave up, flopping back down. Her hair was spread out beneath her in a soft mass of red. Her hands were curled into partial fists and positioned at either side of her head. Her eyelids drooped and her mouth opened and closed; making small, soft, wet noises.  
It was a parody of a small child’s sleep and it disturbed Severus.

“Open your mouth Harry.” Her eyelids opened lazily and she looked at him. He held out the vial of dreamless sleep and she opened her mouth, tilting her head in his direction, before her head flopped uselessly onto the bed.  
He supported her neck and emptied the vial. Harry was already exhausted and she didn’t resist the sleep that claimed her. 

Severus got back into bed before turning to look at her. His heart was beating uncomfortably against his ribs. She was so young and so innocent.  
He should have stopped her sooner.

He should never have let her start.

He swept stray strands out of her eyes. “What are you doing to me, Harry?” Snape whispered into the descending darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dem Bones: You asked why Snape is so inconsistent.  
> Harry is both the child of his greatest enemy and the daughter of one of the only people he ever truly loved.  
> Sometimes he sees her as Lilly's child and sometimes as James's. Sometimes he sees her as a reflection of all his mistakes and other times he sees her as just a person. 
> 
> Snape is far from mature. Even in cannon, he displays a lack of maturity in his treatment of Harry.  
> It's a strange but universal phenomenon that adults sometimes behave like children when they are confronted with something that closely reflects their past.  
> I still feel the same child-like jealousy, exactly as I felt it years ago and have to forcefully remind myself not to act in the way my brain dictates over certain situations.  
> Sometimes that filter doesn't work and I behave, for example, like the 9 year old my brain dictates I am in that moment.
> 
> Snape does that a little more often than others, especially with Harry because of all she represents.  
> Snape is fighting that instinctual reaction partially because he has to to avoid weakening his magic but also, I think, because on some basic level, he knows that what he is doing is wrong, he just sometimes can't control himself. 
> 
> Snape isn't a "sadistic jerk" as you put it, he is a human who has a particularly bad temper and an inability to see that he is hurting Harry because he has made false assumptions because he saw her first as James's child.
> 
> At least that's how I see it.
> 
> Thank you for your comment, you always give me lots of things to think about. Keep it coming!


	12. Hangovers, injurys and picnics

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been asked to shorten my notes. My apologies to those who were irked. 
> 
> Sorry for the slow update, university has been hectic so I've had lots of late nights and then there was my birthday, etc. etc.  
> This is the longest chapter yet, ENJOY!
> 
> (Updated Jan 2018)

When Harry opened her eyes on the morning of Halloween, she felt that something terrible had happened. The sun was shining too brightly as if it were about to engulf the earth. Her head throbbed, but the pain wasn’t localised to her scar.   
From somewhere behind her, Snape spoke; or perhaps he shouted. Why was he being so loud? Had something happened?  
She hadn’t heard words, just noise and she made a concerted effort to listen for the words this time.   
“You’re hungover Potter.” Snape enunciated slowly.  
A little of the jumble that had become her brain had reorganized itself.  
Oh, that made sense. Nothing terrible had happened.   
Aside from her brain being skewered by a rusty pole.

She had been drunk last night if she was hungover now. Why had she been drunk? 

It was Dumbledore. And Snape. And Harry had kissed Hermione.  
She groaned and rolled over. 

Wait a minute, she had kissed Snape too! She had begged him not to stop. Had she actually LIKED it?   
This was terrible.  
No, wait! This was fantastic!  
Nope, it was terrible.  
This was mortifying.

She rolled slowly over and looked at Snape through the crack of her eyelids. Oh god it was bright!  
She screwed her eyes shut and prayed for death to come.

“Here Potter.” Snape shouted. No, she reminded herself, he wasn’t shouting; her ears were overly sensitized. She held her hands over her ears anyway.  
Something cold was pressed against her lips. A vial. Was it dreamless sleep? No that wasn’t possible, she had just woken.  
“Drink Harry, it will make you feel better.”   
Was Snape lying? It would be just like him to lie. He liked to hurt her when she was already hurt, didn’t he?  
She opened her mouth to object. That probably hadn’t been the best idea for Snape had poured the vial into her opening mouth.

The stuff was vile. It tasted like rotting eggs and – was that grass? The potion wasn’t smooth either. Large, slimy lumps wriggled their way down her oesophagus and she gaged. Yuck. If the potion itself wasn’t designed to kill her, then the taste might just.  
She heaved and Snape held something else against her mouth. She pressed her mouth shut and shook her head.  
“Harry!” Snape warned. She opened her mouth reluctantly slowly and a second vial was poured into her mouth.  
Mmmm, was that peppermint? No, it was cinnamon. Or perhaps it was honeyed milk. That made no sense. All flavours were entirely different. 

Her stomach settled a little and the headache ebbed away. She opened her eyes and saw that the sun had decided against swallowing up the earth.  
Thank Merlin.

“Better?” Snape asked quietly. Or perhaps he sounded quiet because he had finally decided stopped shouting.  
“It was a hangover cure?” Harry asked.  
Snape nodded. “That was the most disgusting thing I’ve ever tasted.” Harry said resolutely.  
Snape nodded again. “I’m sure the taste will dissuade you from drinking again, even if the hangover didn’t.” He couldn’t keep the sadistic laugh out of his voice and Harry scowled.  
“The hangover was bad enough, thanks.” Harry griped.

“We’re going to be late for breakfast if you don’t hurry up.” Snape warned. Harry noticed that he wasn’t meeting her eyes and she cringed.   
“Sir?” Harry asked timidly.  
Snape turned a murderously dark gaze in her direction.  
“Severus.” She corrected and Snape looked away again.  
“Yes Po-Harry.”  
Harry almost smirked because he had made the same mistake she had, almost. This was serious. “Did I… ?”  
Snape broke off the question with an irritated answer. “We both did, yes. I apologise for not stopping the kiss sooner.”

“S-sorry.” The whisper was barely audible.  
“What are you apologising for, Harry?” Snape raised a questioning eyebrow.  
“For forcing my –“ Harry flushed in embarrassment and faltered.  
“Your actions were not the inappropriate ones. I allowed you to get drunk and I took advantage. You are still a child.”

Harry flushed, this time in indignation. “I’m not a child, I chose to drink that much and I knew exactly what I was doing when I kissed you. You didn’t take advantage of me.”

“You’re fifteen. That makes you a child in the eyes of our Law and also in my own; it also means you are under the age when you can legally consume alcohol. I provided you with alcohol, which makes me, as your guardian, fully liable. I then proceeded to kiss you in your inebriated state knowing full well that you were drunk and underage. I took advantage of you, and for that, I apologise.” Snape explained, agitated.

“Dumbledore told us to act out scenarios to make memories. You weren’t taking advantage, you were following instructions.” Harry said calmly. 

“Get dressed. Breakfast is nearly over.” Snape reminded trying to keep the irritation out of his voice.  
“Could we just have breakfast here? I have a free first thing. You do too, don’t you?” Harry didn’t want to see Hermione yet.

Snape watched her, puzzled but nodded. “I suppose we could.”

X X X

Snape and Harry stood in the kitchen making breakfast. Harry cracked four eggs into a frying pan and turned to the cutting board to slice tomatoes. She wasn’t focused on the task. She was thinking about what Hermione would do. Would she be angry? Would she forgive Harry?  
What if she told Ron?

Her knife slipped and she sliced her hand open. The cut was deep and she was bleeding badly. She grabbed a paper towel and tried to staunch the bleeding. 

Snape had his back turned, making coffee for himself and tea for Harry, and the accident went by unnoticed.

The acrid smell of burnt food filled the kitchen and Snape turned to see a stove partially obscured with smoke.   
Harry ran to the stove and removed the pan from the heat.

Snape cast air freshening charms and the smoke cleared.

Harry’s eyes were downcast. She had turned off the stove and stood with her shoulders hunched, her one arm held against her chest by the other.

Severus glanced at the blackened mess in the pan before looking back at Harry. He noticed that she held a wad of paper towels against her hand.   
“Give me your arm Harry.” Severus held out the hand that wasn’t gripping his wand.   
Hazel eyes filled with fear. “Please sir.” She whispered. “I’m sorry.”  
“Give me your hand, Harry.” Severus repeated.  
“I won’t burn it again. Please sir.” She begged, hugging the injured arm closer to herself.  
Severus’s arm remained outstretched.

Harry walked forward hesitantly. Her chest heaved and she slowly extended her uninjured arm, not raising her eyes.  
She shook perceptibly and bowed her head.

“The other arm Potter.” Snape snapped. Was she being intentionally dense?  
Snape removed the wadded paper and dark blood oozed thick and fast from the open wound.

“Why didn’t you tell me that you injured yourself?” Snape asked in annoyance.

“I-I” Harry stuttered but she couldn’t find her words.   
Severus held out his wand and began to heal the cut. He didn't miss Harry's wince when his wand was removed. 

Layers of muscle, fascia and skin knitted themselves together until no visible mark remained. The shaking had stopped and Harry took her hand back and stared at it, wide eyed.  
“Oh.” She said in shock. “Th-thank you sir.”  
Snape nodded. “You should have told me sooner. It was foolish not to.” He was glaring at Harry but then his expression softened. “That breakfast did not work out too well, did it?” Harry nodded her head again feeling more than a little embarrassed, and wrongfooted. A healing charm was not what she had expected.

“Perhaps it would be easier if we called an elf.” 

X X X

Harry entered charms alone. 

When her eyes fell on Hermione, her heart-rate sped up. Hermione flushed scarlet and turned her face back to the front. Ron glowered at Harry and Harry noticed that Dean had taken her spot.  
Harry ducked her head and tried to compose herself so that she could find another spot without drawing too much attention. She blinked back hurt tears and tightened her grip on her books.  
“Here Potter.” A voice spoke from behind her. Her books were taken from her arms and she looked up to see Malfoy place them next to hers.  
The Slytherins looked appalled at the idea and Harry opened her mouth to protest when Flitwick walked in.

“Please take your seat, Miss Potter.” came Professor Flitwick’s squeaky voice.

Harry glanced towards Dean’s old spot to see the Gryffindors glaring daggers at her and she made her decision. She was sick of their immaturity and their melodrama. Perhaps the Slytherins were a better option. 

After shooting them a stare that she hoped conveyed an air of indifference, she took her seat next to Malfoy. 

Malfoy smirked as if she had just won some great battle and the expression was soon mirrored by the Slytherins surrounding her.

Harry watched them with fascination. The Slytherins really were the perfect manipulators. They had been given something that, a second ago, they had not wanted and now they looked victorious and the Gryffindors were left feeling like they had lost out, even though, minutes before, they had not wanted her to sit with them either. 

Malfoy had the whole house wrapped around her little finger.  
She could learn some interesting lessons from the Slytherins, Harry thought idly. 

Malfoy, it had turned out, wasn’t all that terrible.

X X X

Severus stood at his desk when the fifth year Slytherins and Gryffindors filed in.  
To Snape’s consternation, Harry and Draco sat together. The remaining two thirds of the golden trio sat on their own. The Weasley one shooting furtive glances in the pair’s direction and the know-it-all resolutely ignoring them.  
Severus wondered what could have occurred since breakfast to cause the change.   
Perhaps it had happened the night before?

His bond-mate and his goddaughter didn’t look altogether friendly, but they weren’t flinging hexes at one another and they seemed to be working reasonably well together. Severus could see that they were talking and he had an urge to listen in on the conversation. That would be inappropriate so Severus avoided that side of the classroom for most of the lesson. 

Harry prepared the ingredients that Draco measured out and Draco controlled the temperature and stirred.

Their potion was closest to the required shade of midnight blue when the lesson ended.

Sevverus awarded them each five points and the pair left his class together, Harry looking rather proud of herself.

 

At lunch, Potter wasn’t sitting with her friends. She sat amongst the second year Gryffindors who all gazed at her with awed expressions. Harry didn’t look all that comfortable.

Snape watched as his goddaughter left the Slytherin table towards the end of lunch. She made a beeline for the Gryffindor table and stooped to speak to Harry. He couldn’t hear what the pair was talking about but Harry was nodding her head in agreement.  
Draco left the hall flanked by Crabbe and Goyle.

When it came time for the Halloween feast, neither Harry nor Draco arrived.

X X X

Malfoy wasn’t bad company, Harry had decided. When other Slytherins weren’t around, she wasn’t a total spoilt, stuck up blood purist. She still cringed at the mention of “the Mudblood Grainger” but she was no longer using that word in Harry’s presence.

She was actually rather bright and level headed. She was clueless about all things muggle, which Harry found incredibly amusing but she knew a whole lot more than Ron about Wizarding Politics.  
Harry was immensely grateful that she didn’t have to sit with the Gryffindors in most classes.

In the weeks since her bond, they had grown gradually more distant. They ignored her more often than not and Harry couldn’t deny that this greatly upset her. There were few remaining that still spoke to her.

Apparently, Bonding with Hogwarts most hated Potions master was worse than speaking Parseltounge and Petrifying people, or illegally putting your name in the Goblet of Fire.

Gryffindors were supposed to be brave and loyal. This lot certainly wasn’t loyal not even towards their own house mates.

 

It was a comfort to spend time with the Slytherins, she was proving to herself and to all of her housemates that she did not need them. In fact, she was doing better without them.

The Bond had earned her brownie points in the Slytherins and Draco had mentioned that they were all interested in discovering her motivations. They certainly stared at her with curiosity in most lessons.

Draco spoke about her Godfather often. She spent half her summer holidays with him and preferred this time to the time spent with her family. Apparently, Draco didn’t like her father as much as she had earlier let on.   
They had bonded over their mutual hatred of Divination and History of Magic and their shared love of Quidditch. Malfoy had wagered fifty galleons that she would catch the snitch before Harry in the next Gryffindor/Slytherin match. Harry had agreed because there was no way Draco could even spot it before her.

Draco, seeing that she had not sat amongst her grade, had told Harry to meet her in the Entrance Hall before dinner. That was where Harry now stood, waiting for Draco to arrive.

“First things first, we need to grab some food from the Great Hall.” Draco rubbed her hands together in excitement. 

“I have a better idea.” Harry beamed. “Come on.” 

XXX

The pair stood in front of a portrait with a gigantic silver fruit bowl.

“What are we doing here Potter?” Malfoy asked in confusion.

“Tickle the pear.” Harry said cryptically.  
Malfoy raised an eyebrow in such a Snape-like manner that Harry had to bite back a laugh.  
Malfoy reached out and tickled the pear. The pear squirmed and giggled before morphing into a large green door-handle.

Malfoy pulled the door open and gasped in surprise. They stood in Hogwarts kitchens, *an enormous, high-ceilinged room, as large as the Great Hall above it. Mounds of glittering brass pots and pans were heaped around the stone walls, and there was a great brick fireplace at one end of the room*

Four, long tables groaned under the weight of the Halloween feast.  
“Mistress Harry!” Dobby squealed, dashing forwards, his pile of beanies teetering dangerously, before wrapping his tiny arms around Harry’s legs.   
“Hello Dobby!” Harry smiled enthusiastically, she had a soft spot for the elf.

“Dobby?!” Malfoy shrieked, incredulous. 

“Mistress Malfoy.” Dobby’s eyes were as large as saucers and his expression was one of unmistakable fear.   
"What are you doing at Hogwarts?” Malfoys eyes narrowed slightly.  
“D-dobby is a free elf.” Dobby stuttered, pointing to his pile of beanies. “Master Dumbledore is paying Dobby to work at Hogwarts.” He rocked slowly backwards and forwards of the balls of his feet.   
“Why would you leave the employ of my father?”   
“Master Malfoy was a terrible master, Master Malfoy is causing Dobby much sadness.” Dobby spoke so fast, that he was almost incoherent.

Dobby’s whimpered in apparent shock at his own words and ran for the fire place. 

Harry caught him mid-run and hoisted him into the air. “I forbid you to hurt yourself.” She said clearly and when she was quite certain that Dobby had calmed, she lowered him to the floor.   
Malfoy’s next words astounded Harry. “You’re not wrong. I envy you.” The last was said more to herself.

The honesty in that voice was audible and Harry winced. She wondered why Malfoy felt the way she did about her father.  
Dobby blinked up at Draco for a few seconds, before bursting into wails in a mixture of relief and shock.

The food on the tables disappeared and Malfoy did a double take. 

“Uhhh - Dobby, do you have food for us?” Harry asked the still sobbing elf in an attempt to distract him.  
Dobby perked up almost immediately. 

“Oh yes, Mistresses Harry and Malfoy! Dobby is having foods for you.” the elf said happily, swiping away his tears, and dashing off to collect the food. 

 

Draco and Harry left the kitchens laden with a picnic basket that was full to bursting with food.  
They made their way up to the seventh floor and Malfoy stopped next to an empty stretch of wall, opposite a portrait of Barnabas the Barmy.

“Uhh, Malfoy?” Harry asked confusedly.

Malfoy had started pacing against the wall.

Harry was about to speak up when a door materialised where seconds ago, there had been only stone expanse.

Draco smiled smugly as she pushed the door open and stood aside.

Harry did a double take, looking back over her shoulder just to be certain that she hadn’t missed something. They were definitely on the seventh floor. Harry could see that they were high up from the window at the end of the corridor, but she looked back into the room that technically couldn’t be called a room. 

Harry stepped into what looked like a forest glade. Although the sun should be setting in the sky by now, here the sun streamed through the trees, as if it were just past midday. 

There was a circular clearing of soft, fresh grass. There was a blanket laid at its centre and pillows were strewn, haphazardly around it.   
Incongruously, there was a glass faced cabinet sitting on the grass, that held a vast assortment of what looked to be wizarding games. She could see a gobstones set, exploding snap, and wizards’ chess and many more that Harry did not recognize. 

“What is this place?” Harry asked in wonderment.  
“The room of requirement.” Draco was still smiling smugly. “It will change to fit what you desire.”  
“Anything?” Harry asked excitedly.  
“Well, anything except food. That’s why we had to get this.” Draco held the basket aloft.

Harry screwed her eyes shut and thought hard. From behind her, she heard the soft murmur of water start and turned to see a babbling brook that had sprawled across the glade and wound its way through the trees. She smiled to herself, this was fantastic!

Malfoy was already sitting on the blanket, spreading out the food. Harry sat across from her and grabbed a treacle tart.  
For a while, all that could be heard was the sound of contented eating and the slow rush of the water.

Draco swallowed her mouthful and spoke. “So, why did you choose him?”  
“Who, Snape?” Harry’s voice was muffled because she hadn’t swallowed her mouthful of chocolate mousse. She had no idea how she was going to answer that question. 

Draco stared at her with incredulity “You call him Snape?!”

Harry thought quickly and swallowed. “Well ah, no but I can’t exactly call him ‘Sev’ in public, can I? It’s become habit to call him ‘Snape’ outside our chambers.” 

Malfoy nodded in understanding. “Why did you choose Sev, Potter?”

Harry took another bite of treacle tart to buy time and chewed slowly. Malfoy gazed unblinkingly at her and Harry squirmed uncomfortably. “I uhhh don’t really know. He’s strong magically, I guess. He can protect me.”

“Oh” Draco’s voice did not quite fit with her look of disappointment. “That’s it, Potter?”

Harry winced. “Please just call me Harry.” 

Malfoy faltered but then held out an arm. “I’m Dray, nice to meet you Harry.” She said jokingly.

Harry shook her hand “Likewise uh Dray.”  
Definitely better than Draconian. What an awful name.

“So…” Harry said to break the somewhat awkward silence that had settled over them “Why choose Crabbe and Goyle?” She tried for a lopsided grin.

Malfoy’s nose wrinkled. “They’re mindless. Good minion material.” She said sarcastically.  
Harry’s smile faltered slightly. She sincerely hoped Malfoy was joking.

“So you’d rather have ‘minions’ than friends?” Harry asked carefully, eyes fixed on a loose thread she was picking at in the blanket..

“Well, no but most people are afraid of me because of my father, and those who aren’t, aren’t exactly friendship material. They enjoy backstabbing a little too much.” Her tone was joking but Harry could see the hurt in the silver-grey eyes.

“I’m not afraid of you,” Harry smirked, quirking her eyebrows. 

Malfoy looked at her sidelong. “I know you aren’t. You’re different.”

“Do you like being outside?” Harry gestured around them. The room did change to fit desires and Malfoy evidentially desired to be here.

Malfoy lay back, silver hair splayed over the grass, and sighed contentedly. “No more than I enjoy being inside, but this just felt like the perfect picnic spot, ya know? What would you want change about this place?”

Harry thought for a while. She remembered the Dursleys going for picnics occasionally. Once, Mrs Figg hadn’t been able to look after her, so the Dursleys had been forced to take her along. They had left her in the car.   
She had watched them through the window and greatly envied Dudley, who was jumping higher than one could on land, on a trampoline. Harry had wanted, with every part of herself, to leave the car and jump with him but she couldn’t.

She had sat on her hands to force herself to resist the urge to unlock the car. She knew the consequences for directly disobeying aunt Petunia would be dire.

“What is that?” Malfoy’s confused voice startled Harry out of her reverie.   
A short distance away from them, was a large, rectangular piece of material suspended over a ditch by springs.   
Harry’s stomach did a silly flip of excitement at the sight. “That’s what I wanted to add. It’s a muggle thing called a trampoline.”

“What does it do?” Malfoy asked, watching it disdainfully as if it were something dirty or dangerous.  
“You jump on it.” Harry was already pulling off her shoes and socks. “Come on.”

She dashed forwards and leapt onto the trampoline.

It was one of the most fantastic feelings. She was flung back into the air and for a moment, she felt weightless, like she was flying but without a broom. She landed only too be sprung back up once more.   
She was certain that she was jumping higher than Dudley could, it was probably the magic of this room. She couldn’t help the laughter that bubbled out from her.  
“Malfoys don’t jump.” Dray said snobbishly. “It’s undignified.”  
Harry snorted, barely resisting the urge to roll her eyes. “You’re missing o-oout.” She sang in a sing-song voice. Malfoy surely wasn’t going to pass this up, just because it was made by muggles.

Malfoy stared at her for a while, her face twitching. “You will tell no one of this moment.” Draco looked at Harry seriously before standing and kicking off her shoes.

XXX

“This is fantastic.” She shrieked. “How did the muggles make this?”   
“They aren’t as helpless as you think. Muggles have their own kind of magic. You wouldn’t believe the stuff they could make.”   
Draco slowed her jumping before flopping down on the trampoline, out of breath. Harry flopped down next to her.

“Like what” Draco panted, staring at the treetops.

“Well, they have moving pictures called television and carriages that move without horses called cars. They can fly but not on brooms; they use machines called aeroplanes or helicopters. Their healers can fix almost anything, just not as fast as ours. They’ve even been on the moon.”

“You can’t go to the moon. Not even wizards can apparate to a place they haven’t been before. Not without sidelong apparition.” Draco frowned.

“But they have. They have these things called rockets, that are propelled along by… controlled explosions.” Harry explained, smiling at the thought of what Malfoy might be picturing from this vague description.

“And the muggles? They’re in this exploding rocket?” Malfoys face showed how patently stupid she thought this idea was.

Harry snorted. “The rocket isn’t exploding. The explosions are causing the rocket to move through the air. Think of brooms, right? What would happen if you collided Goyle, say while you were in the air?”

“He would get pushed some, I guess?” 

“And you?” Harry prompted.

“I would ricochet off him. We’d be pushed off in opposite directions.”

“Exactly!” Harry beamed, and Malfoy looked even more confused. “So when you push on something, it pushes back, but in the opposite direction. These explosions push hot gas out of the back of the rocket or plane or whatever, and the hot gas pushes back on the back of the rocket, causing it to move forward, see?”

“But...” Malfoy spluttered “that’s actually smart, isn’t it?”

“What are you getting at?” Harry frowned.

“Well, muggles are like animals, aren’t they? They’re stupid and helpless and stuff.” Her voice petering off towards the end, at Harry’s growing look of incredulity. 

“I forget that you’re a muggle lover.” Malfoy grumbled into her chest.

“They’re not helpless! God, you’re such a blood purist.” Harry made to get up, frustration building.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry, alright?” Malfoy spluttered, trying to force Harry back down. “I was raised believing this shit. It’s a little difficult to break the habit of viewing them like animals. This stuff they do sounds cool and everything, it’s just- well, it’s hard to believe muggles could do this.”

Harry’s anger abated slightly, but she shot Malfoy a glare before settling down again, and growling “Just don’t call them animals again, yeah? At least not in front of me.”

Dray looked abashed.

“You said they had their own magic, did they take it from us?” Draco half-turned her head towards Harry, her knuckles white from clenching her fists, as if she expected Harry to react negatively to this question too.

“No. They use their minds. Their intelligence is their magic. They use science and ingenuity to make their lives easier.” Harry said, deciding it was better to remain calm if she was going to have any hope of dissuading Malfoy from this tendency towards bigotry. 

“How can pictures move without magic, then?” She sounded torn between curiosity and frustration.

“They use a thing they call electricity. It’s like lightning but more controlled. I don’t really understand it either.” Harry said, seeing Draco’s confused expression.

Dray sighed. “You should find out for me.”

“You could find out for yourself. The muggle studies section should be well stocked.” Harry pointed out.   
Malfoy shot her a glare that held little heat. “Yeah, I’m sure my father would be delighted if I took up muggle studies.”

Harry was tempted to say that her father’s opinion wasn’t everything, but even she could spot the blatant hypocrisy of that statement, so she held her tongue. 

Malfoy cast a tempus after a short stretch of silence. “Come on.” Draco flounced off the trampoline. “It’s nearly curfew.”

Harry stood up too and jumped, a smile spreading across her face. 

“Ok, maybe just one more jump.” Draco said, trying to keep her tone one of boredom, her lips twitching, before taking a running leap back onto the trampoline.


	13. Multi-coloured eyebrows

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Love you crazy people so much!  
> Over 100 follows on ff.net and over 100 kudos on A03 0_0  
> <3  
> Here's the reward for being awesome:

When Harry walked into their chambers, her cheeks were flushed as if from exercise. She was grinning broadly and flopped onto the couch in front of Snape. 

“How was your day?” Snape asked, hiding a smirk by taking a sip of his drink.

“Pretty great, and yours?”

“The second years melted 3 cauldrons and the Weasley twins blew up their potion and I haven’t worked out how; but otherwise good.” He said evenly. “Where were you at dinner?”

Harry smiled cheekily at him. “It’s a secret Professor.”

“You would keep secrets from your bond-mate?” Snape chortled.

“It’s not my secret to tell.” She stared at the ceiling to keep from laughing but then turned her hazel gaze to him. “It’s your goddaughters.” She smirked evilly at him as his eye widened in surprise.

“You like her then?” Snape arched an eyebrow.

“She isn’t terrible.” Harry looked back at the ceiling, feigning nonchalance. “So you can’t work out what the Weasley’s did? That must be embarrassing Sev.” She faltered and looked towards Snape for confirmation that the nickname was acceptable. 

He showed no sign of disapproval, but maybe he hadn’t heard.  
“The trouble makers have a knack for stumping everyone. This in no way reflects badly on my intellect.” Snape smirked.

“Sure” Harry snorted. “It’s okay that I call you Sev, right?” wanting the clarification.

“I call you by your nickname, do I not? I suppose it is acceptable, even if only for the purpose of falsifying memories.” Snape said slowly.

“Are we going to make more tonight?” Harry wasn’t sure if she wanted to or not.  
Snape’s expression hardened. “You are too young.” He said harshly and seeing that Harry was about to object, he went on. “I do not care what Dumbledore’s instructions were. Last night could have ended far worse and it nearly did. We were both far too drunk.”

“Do you object to the lack of control or do you object to my age? Had you just kissed me and not felt too out of control to ensure that things would not have gone further, would that have been acceptable?”

Snape thought for a while. “I object to both. I doubt I will ever find Dumbledore’s request acceptable.” He said stiffly.

“Dumbledore’s orders.” Harry corrected softly.

Snape turned his dark gaze to Harry. “Do I detect that this is something you desire?”

Harry flushed. “I do not desire- It’s just, well no. I’d far rather have the bond annulled. I don’t even know why I argued with you. It’s easier this way.” Harry’s words stumbled out, her face becoming redder.

Snape was irked. Potter had successfully backed him into a corner with her unintended use of reverse psychology. The whole reason he was to compromise his morals and potentially take advantage of a student was to protect Harry. Either way, she wouldn’t come out unscathed.

“Very well” Snape sighed “We shall endeavour to create new memories.”  
“But that’s not what I…” Harry faltered.

“You may have changed tack last minute, but this is precisely what you were arguing for.” Snape bit out.

Harry reached for the crystal decanter, but Snape removed it from her grasp. “If we are to do this, you are to be completely sober; as am I.” Snape removed his wand and summoned a potion to sober himself up.

Harry watched him edgily, fidgeting with her skirt.

“Lounge or bedroom?” Snape asked.

“Lounge.” Harry said hurriedly. Too many unwanted things could happen in a bedroom.

Snape motioned for Harry to sit next to him and she moved without hesitation. Snape was not to know how truly frightened she was 

She sat a distance away but moved slightly closer until their thighs were almost touching. She glanced up at Snape who watched her steadily from endlessly black eyes. Her gaze fell to her lap once more.  
He lifted an arm and Harry held back a flinch. A strong arm wrapped around her so that his hand rested on her waist and her head lay against his chest. Her whole body was rigid and she didn’t appear to be relaxing.

“You’re too tense” Snape said softly and loosened his hold. She sat up swiftly and started breathing again. She didn’t have her liquid courage this time, and it was showing.  
Her cheeks were flushed, and she averted her gaze from Snape’s.

“Would you prefer that I kiss you?” He asked.

Harry nodded unsteadily. I’ve done this before, twice, she told herself. I can do it again.

“Are you certain?” Snape looked at her searchingly. 

“Yes” she nodded again this time with more certainty.  
Snape calloused hands cupped her face.   
Her breathing hitched in fear as his lips brushed hers and her body stiffened as if she were ready to take flight.

“Relax” He rested his forehead against hers and rubbed soothing circles into her hair. He felt her hot puffs of air against his mouth and captured her lips between his once more.

Small hands balled into fists and pushed against his chest. Snape moved back immediately. “I-I can’t” came her frightened whisper.

“Turn around” Snape said, a little more roughly than he’d anticipated and Harry edged away.   
“Please turn around.” He repeated less harshly.

She kept her eyes fixed on him as she turned. Now with her back to him, her head was turned and she watched him out of the corner of her eye.  
Severus shifted back on the couch, sitting diagonally so that there was generous space in front of him. Gently nudging Harry’s shoulder to tell her to shift back, he got her to settle between his legs, with her back to him.

Snape reached out a hand and traced a pattern over her white school shirt, moving her hair over her shoulder.  
She stiffened at his initial touch but slowly relaxed into it.

His hands trailed down her back to find the hem of her shirt. She tensed once more. He slipped his hand underneath and continued to trace feather light touches over her skin until he felt her begin to relax.  
“Does it feel good, Harry?” 

Harry hummed and nodded, arching into his touch.  
Snape hands returned over her uniform and he slowly made a path up to her neck. She rolled her head forwards to allow him greater access. Potter reacted to the touch like a light-  
starved plant, unfurling its leaves and stretching itself towards the sunlight.

Snape had seen her rubbing circles into her arms and knew that to her, this feeling was a comfort.

One of his hands moved to trace the shell of her ear and she shivered involuntarily. Whether from pleasure or fear, Snape could not tell. She stiffened noticeably when his fingers trailed lightly over her cheeks and she turned her face away from the touch, her breathing quickened.

“Ignore what you think the feeling means and just enjoy the feeling.” Snape’s smooth, deep voice instructed.   
Her breathing was ragged and Snape returned to his exploration of her back until he felt her relax once more.  
He crooked a finger under her chin to turn her to face more toward him, his thumb soothing over her bottom lip. Although he could feel her shaking, she didn’t pull away.  
“Face me.” Severus breathed against her ear. Harry turned, with shuddering breaths, to face Severus.

His hands were on her arms, trailing slow, dizzy circles up them. “Focus on the feeling.” He repeated as his hands reached her neck.  
Harry’s eyes fluttered shut as he traced the soft skin of her neck and swept across her jawline.  
She jerked back as his hands rounded her neck, her eyes open and fearful.

“Just the feeling, Harry. This is an act remember? The meaning is not the same. This does not predicate something further. If you feel uncomfortable, I will stop.” He halted his hands explorations and waited for her permission to continue. He would not take advantage of her.  
Moments passed, and Harry nodded her head; her eyes closing. His fingers were tracing patterns on her cheeks and his calloused thumbs swept across her lips.

He ghosted over her eyelids and rubbed circles into the start of her hairline.  
At first, she resisted, but now she pushed further into the touch; her breathing quickened, yet deep.

Snape placed fingertips on her jaw and with a slight pressure, she tilted her head. Snape placed a soft kiss on the corner of her neck and she started in surprise.  
“The feeling Harry. This is no different from the touch” he whispered hoarsely against her neck before trailing kisses up to meet her jawline, one hand stroking circles into her back and the other tangled in her hair, supporting her head.

He was now planting kisses across her jawline and Harry lent into the touch. He grazed her jawline with his teeth and soothed it with his tongue. She shuddered, and he repeated his words “Focus on the feeling.”

He kissed the corner of her mouth and Harry’s chest rose and fell with stuttered breaths. He kissed her mouth; once, twice and small hands wound through his long, black hair as she kissed him back.  
The kisses were small and innocent at first, but they grew gradually more insistent. Harry was starting to feel dizzy. With her fingers in his hair, and her eyes closed, she could almost pretend he was someone else. The length of his hair and the smoothness of his clean-shaven face aided the illusion, but she found, even with her eyes open, that if she focussed on the feeling, she could pretend this was something other than intimate; she could pretend she was cared for and the feeling was wonderful.  
Snape lent back and pulled Harry with him until they lay across the couch. Harry hummed in ascent to the feeling and Snape deepened the kiss.  
He traced his tongue against her lips and they parted, granting him access. Harry’s legs tangled between his own, shifting against him as if she were trying to find some way to get crawl deeper into the touch. Snape held her waist firmly against his.  
Her hands started an exploration of their own, moving up Snape’s sides and clutching at the material of his robes. She mewled at the feeling of Snapes hands against her back, and in her hair, and his lips against hers. Never had she been shown affection like this and she didn’t want it to end.

Snape pushed against her shoulder. “That’s enough for tonight, Harry” he said breathlessly.

Harry barely held back her protests. Gradually, and then all of a sudden, thought - that touch had stolen – returned.   
Gods, what was wrong with her.

She climbed off of Snape and stumbled backwards.  
Snape watched her face as it flitted through emotions, finally reaching one of confusion, her fingers on her lips.

“Are you alright?”

Harry nodded unsteadily. “I-I’m fine. Just tired.”  
Snape wordlessly handed dreamless sleep over to her and she climbed into bed. 

Before Harry unstopped the vial, Snape spoke. “I was hoping we could go to Hogsmead together this weekend. We can get the supplies for dinner with Dray and be seen by the public.”

Harry nodded and downed the vial.

X X X

“How are things going between you two?” Dray asked, sitting on a purple beanbag chair, that Harry had introduced her to, in the centre of their glade, a wizarding game called “Escape the labyrinth” set up between them.

“Well, I think.” Harry said, rolling the dice and watching her strange clay piece march across the board and wincing as a rotating blade on the board barely missed decapitating his head.

Dray looked at her expectantly, as she reached for the dice, to take her turn.

“He’s um a good kisser.” Harry answered to satisfy Malfoys insatiable curiosity, and turning red. It wasn’t a lie, really.

“For Salazars sake.” Dray groaned. “I did not need to know that.” She covered her eyes.

“You asked.” Harry chortled, and they lapsed into silence.

The smile slipping of her face, Harry spoke. “We’re going to Hogsmead soon. I’m a bit nervous to be honest.” 

“Why are you nervous?” Drays winced as her piece was dragged backward by a miniature version of devil’s snare, his little feet being damaged in the process. Damn. That would affect how fast he would be able to move, unless he found a healing fountain soon.

“It’s the first time we’ll be together in public. It just feels like the world will be scrutinising us.” Harry said quietly.

“They will be, but you’re used to that, aren’t you Potter?” Harry could hear the joking sarcasm in her voice and shot Dray a glare. 

“I hate it enough as it is. I had no control over what I’m famous for, I barely remember it. Everyone has the expectation that I must be this absolutely perfect golden girl and whenever I make the slightest mistake, they hate me. I can never be sure of how true my friendships are and even when I think I’m certain, I’m proved wrong”. Even with Ron and Hermione- came the unbidden thought.  
Dray seemed to guess her thoughts, for he squeezed her fingers and Harry shot her a grateful smile. 

“Hogsmead’ll be alright. Sev will protect you; I’m certain of it and the papers can’t do more damage than they already have.” Draco’s voice was encouraging. “And like I’ve said before; your friends are prats. Besides you have me now.”

“Drat, my only friend is the most annoying Slytherin in Hogwarts.” Harry threw up her arms in mock despair.

“You know I’m wonderful.” Draco was positively preening.

“Only because you’re so exceptionally modest.” Harry said strait-faced before collapsing into laughter. 

“Prat.” Draco punched her shoulder.

X X X

They had started on self-transformations in transfigurations. Harry was exceptionally good at it and managed to make her eyebrows multi-coloured with great ease.   
She wondered for a moment if the bond was starting to affect her magic but there were no noticeable changes in any of her other subjects. Perhaps it was all the practice she had gotten in, while hiding her injuries.

McGonagall was circling the classroom when she spotted Harry waggling rainbow coloured eyebrows at Malfoy. She was the only person in the class that had achieved it so far. “10 points to Gryffindor.” She praised.

“Miss Potter, would you care to demonstrate to the class?”

Harry hesitated but then cast the charm and her eyebrows became red with gold stripes.  
“Back to work everyone!” McGonagall called before turning back to Harry. “You’re casting it wrong.” McGonagall said in confusion. “The spell shouldn’t have worked. Would you mind doing it again?”

Harry’s eyebrows turned Green and silver. Her wand movement was definitely off. McGonagall imitated Harry’s motion to alter the colour of her own eyebrows and absolutely nothing happened.   
It was all very strange.

This definitely warranted further exploration.

McGonagall asked Harry to come to her office next week Friday and Harry agreed.

“Gods. It’s like magic itself bends to your will.” Dray rolled her eyes. “You cast it wrong and still get it right.”

Harry grinned evilly “Bow to my almighty power!” she said, trying and failing to keep the laughter out of her voice as Malfoy swept into a deep bow. If her father could see her now, bowing to a half-blood, blood traitor.

X X X

When Harry entered their rooms, Snape put down his marking.   
“How was your day?”   
Harry planted a quick kiss on his cheek before replying. “Good, and yours?”

Harry registered surprise in his features before his face became impassive once more. “Fine. Did anything interesting happen?” there was a slight edge to his tone but Harry didn’t notice.

“Not really, no.” She said, flouncing down at her spot and taking out her homework. 

“Not even in transfigurations?” Now Harry heard the all-knowing edge.

“You heard about that, did you?” Harry smiled sidelong at him, focusing on her essay.

“I did. McGonagall seems to think it’s because of the bond.” He said slowly.

“Oh, really?” Harry raised an ordinary-coloured eyebrow. “And what do you think?”

“I think she’s mistaken because I haven’t noticed any change in my own magic.” Snape smirked but his tone was definitely one of curiosity.

“I thought the same. It was only transfigurations. Probably just a fluke.” Harry looked back at her scroll.

“Or because you’re Harry Potter.” Snape griped.

“Hey?! What’s that supposed to mean?” Harry said indignantly. 

“Only that you have a tendency of defying the laws of magic.” Snape snorted. “And flouting all the other rules, of course.”

Harry shot him a death glare and he raised his hands in mock surrender before heading for the bathroom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Review ;)


	14. Uncomfortable encounters

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My apologies for the wait, this wasn't an easy chapter...  
> and its super-duper long so BONUS!
> 
> WARNING!!! There is smut in this chapter if you don't like, don't read!
> 
> I hope I haven't utterly butchered this, I was torn between putting it in or taking it out but I believe its necessary.
> 
> Please let me know what you think? if it's terrible then I'm bribing Sarwolf with chocolate to rewrite the scene for me. You'll know it when you see it.
> 
> KannaRaimi- AO3, you're comment is my new favourite! Hopefully before the end of this fic, I'll be able to send you to an asylum with neurosis. Mwa haha! (Much love xx)

There were only three nights remaining before their Hogsmead trip. Harry was constantly on edge, brow creased in concern. 

“Knut for your thoughts?” Snape closed his book and dropped it to his lap, fixing his gaze on Harry.  
She looked up as if startled at the question.

Harry bit her lip. “What if I mess up this weekend? What if I freeze?” she asked, almost breathless.

“Ah, that’s what you’re worried about.” He smirked.

“I’m serious.” Harry shot him a glare. “I’ll mess up and they’ll annul the bond and then Dumbledore will find Them and send me back.” Her expression was pained.

“Them?” Snape quirked an eyebrow.  
Harry’s eyes moved reflexively to the ground and she shrugged.

“If you freeze, you freeze.” Snape said evenly, his eyes studying her downturned face.

She mumbled something Severus couldn’t make out, into her lap. Slowly, as if steeling herself, she looked at Snape. “I don’t want to.” She spoke again, louder, hazel eyes looking into black.

“I don’t want to freeze.” She said once more, inching closer, and this time, Snape felt her breath against his cheek and shuddered.

Ever since he had last kissed her, he had wanted to do it again, but he wouldn’t let himself.

He wanted Harry to make the decision. He wanted Harry to make the first move.

Heat pooled in his abdomen in anticipation and he shifted in his seat, twitching his cloak over his lap so she wouldn’t see his arousal.

He could hear hot shallow breaths against his ear and felt her hands shaking as they carded through his hair before she kissed the corner of his mouth. He desperately wanted her to want this, not to do it out of some sick sense of duty.

He shouldn’t want this at all. Not from a child.

She was kissing him in earnest now. Before Harry, it had been so long since he was last shown affection; so long since he’d last been able to give it.

Harry broke off the kiss and moved off the couch. Severus wanted nothing more than to pull her back but he stayed his hands.  
She was standing in front of him now, hand outstretched but it took Severus a full two seconds before he realised what she wanted and stood.

He towered over her and, even after stretching onto tiptoes, she still wasn’t tall enough to reach him. Her hands wound behind his neck and tugged his face downwards to meet hers.  
Severus walked her backwards, not overly certain of where he was headed. The kiss was rendering his brain a confused mess.  
She stood, barefoot on his shoed feet in an attempt to gain height and Snape chuckled, warm and deep. She was adorable.

He wanted to tug her shirt over her head but resisted the temptation by backing Harry into a wall and occupied his hands by placing them against cold stone on either side of her head.

Harry simultaneously froze and stopped breathing; frightened eyes seeking out Severus’. “I don’t want…” came her frightened whisper, but before she could finish her sentence, Snape had turned so that his back now faced the wall.  
He breathed a soft apology against her forehead and smoothed her hair with his hands until the shaking stopped.

She raised her head haltingly, her breath coming out in quickened gasps, first against his collar bone and then his neck and up once more until her lips met his, tongue almost immediately seeking entrance, her body moving flush with his.

She tasted like cool, clean water and the taste was refreshing against Severus’ tongue.

His hand snaked around her waist, his other tugged at her leg, picking her up. She was lighter than she should be. Her legs wound around his hips and her fingers tangled in his hair as he sought out a path to the bed.

He lowered her down gently onto the bed and halted the kiss, careful not to scare her again.  
His erection throbbed almost painfully but he would not give in to his desires, they were far from appropriate.

He placed gentle kisses against closed eyelids and Harry moved into the touch, her hands pulling his head towards her.

She was lost in the feeling of the kiss and her hips moved against a non-existent friction. Severus wanted that too and he could give it to both of them.

He straddled her, moving her further up the bed a he did. He supported his weight with his arms, no part of himself touching her except his lips that ghosted hers. She arched upwards and opened her mouth in a moan.

Snape took this as his opportunity to deepen the kiss, his tongue sliding heatedly against hers, teeth grazing her swollen lips.

He lowered himself on to her, unable to contain his need for closeness.  
Severus ground his hips into Harry’s and choked back a yell of pleasure; swallowing Harry’s protests. 

Give it a few seconds and she’d realize she like this too he told himself.

His teeth clashed against hers and his erection moved against her groin. The movement had caused her skirt to be pushed up slightly and his hands sought out the silky-smooth skin of her thigh and the oversized, muggle boxers she wore. 

Her hands pushed violently at his chest but the action had little effect.

Snape captured her wrist in his hands and forced them above her head, his teeth tugging at her lip.

She was turning her face from his, breathing frantic. “Relax.” He whispered into her ear. “The feeling Harry.” He repeated his words of a few nights ago before sucking her earlobe between his teeth and allowing his tongue to play lightly across it.

“Please sir.” She was on the verge of panic. “Please stop, you’re scaring me.”

“Harry, it’s ok. I’m not going to hurt you Harry. No further than this, I promise.” He said between kisses, his hands still trapping hers.  
“Just relax.” 

In an explosive burst of magical energy, all the glass in the room shattered. Severus was flung a few feet backwards before hitting the flagstone floors, his world descending into darkness.

He woke moments later and stood, swaying dangerously and attempting to find his bearings. His head ached but the pain had not been caused by fall, the bond was manifesting Harry’s hurt.  
Harry! Severus thought, panicked. She was no longer on the bed and Snape’s heart rate quickened. He had pushed her too far.  
He checked the lounge and kitchen area and turned back, seeing that it was empty. That was when his eyes fell on Harry.  
She was cowering next to the bed, hair partially obscuring her face, hugging her legs against her body. She was watching him from behind her curtain of hair and recoiled as Severus drew closer.

Her mouth was moving but the utterances were too soft to make out over the crackling of the fire in the grate.

Snape moved closer, stooping as he did so, in an attempt to look less threatening.

She raised her arms protectively over her head. “I didn’t mean- please sir. I didn’t mean to.” Snape made out the choked sob. That’s when he saw the finger shaped bruises on her wrists.  
He had done that.

“Harry.” His voice broke. “Harry, please, I’m sorry.”

She was cringing away from his outstretched hand and he withdrew it.  
“Harry, please look at me. I won’t hurt you.” God, that was stupid. He had said that before and now the proof that he hadn’t kept his word marred her wrists.

At his request, her eyes sought out his boots and her arms were lowered, revealing a tear streaked face. She was trembling violently.

“I won’t do it again, sir. Please, I’m sorry.” She moved as far as she could against the wall and her arms twitched, as if resisting the urge to cover herself. To protect herself from him.

What in Salazar’s name had he just done?

“You’ve done nothing wrong Harry.” He took a step towards her and immediately regretted it.

“I couldn’t control myself. Please. I was scared sir. I couldn’t move a-and you were stronger and I didn’t mean- Please, I won’t do it again. I- I’ll do whatever you ask.” She hugged herself, her eyes never going above his knee height.

The knife he had plunged into his own chest, twisted painfully at her words. She was beyond terrified. “You had every right to do what you did Harry. I hurt you. I am so sorry.” Her eyes skittered across the floor of the room. “Please look at me Harry.” He pleaded.  
Her eyes found his boots immediately and stayed there. 

Snape knew these signs; he had seen them in his snakes, seen his Slytherins behave like this when they had suffered abuse.

No, surely not.   
Severus went cold.

His voice shook with ill-concealed emotion. “Have they hurt you Harry? Did the Dursley’s harm you?”  
She shook her head resolutely, eyes still fixed on Snape’s boots. “No.” Her voice shook and Snape had to be certain if what she was saying was the truth. He reached for her chin and she flinched but did not protest as he tugged it gently upwards before entering her mind. He looked for nothing more than memories of abuse.  
Snape saw darkness; thick, impenetrable darkness. That could mean one of two things; either the girl was a talented occlumens or there was nothing to see. Nothing, because Harry had never been abused. The first excuse was laughable and the second sent relief flooding through Snape.

The golden-girls reputation as a spoilt, pampered child could remain perfectly intact.  
She was still afraid. She still cowered. She had been abused, but not by the Dursleys; she had been abused by him.

He released her chin and she scuttled away, tucking her chin and her knees against her chest, her arms wrapped protectively around herself once more.

She had stopped speaking but kept a wary eye on him as he moved.

“I should never have done what I did. I went too far. You had every right to react in the way you did.”

Severus stretched out a hand to rub Harry’s back in an attempt to soothe her. She jumped at the contact but didn’t move away as if afraid to bait him but she trembled and Snape halted his attempt at comfort.

He disappeared and returned moments later with a bruise salve for Harry’s wrists.  
“It’s bruise salve.” He said, making doubly sure to let her know she had nothing to fear before applying it to her wrists.

She watched him cautiously as he massaged the thick paste onto her wrists and held her arms against her chest once he was done. 

Severus’ mouth felt dry with guilt as he stepped away from the still cowering Harry. He removed a blanket from the chest of drawers and laid it over the couch in front of the fire and collected a pillow from the bed. He wasn’t going to force his company on Potter any longer.

X X X

Harry watched Snape preparing a bed for her on the couch. He was angry with her, wasn’t he? She had never seen so much disgust in his features. 

The blankets and pillows had been laid on the couch and Harry was trying her utmost to convince her muscles to work, to pick her up of the floor and carry her to the couch. They were hearing none of it.

Harry turned back to the couches to see Snape settling himself down on the makeshift bed she had thought was her own. 

“No, sir! I’ll take the couch.” Harry scrambled up.

“I’ve done enough for tonight, Harry.” Snape replied. There was venom in his voice.

Harry hugged her arms against herself and looked to the floor. He was definitely angry with her and she wasn’t sure how to redeem this.

She climbed into the too-large-bed and hid her face from Snape’s, feeling tears sting her eyes. She had lost control of her magic and worse still, her uncontrolled magic had hurt Snape. 

He was so disgusted in her that he wasn’t even sleeping in his own bed.  
What was worse, punishment was still coming. Snape had said he had done enough “for tonight”. 

That must mean the punishment was still to come.

Her wrists had hurt but he had fixed that. Had he done it to hide the bruises or because he truly felt guilty for her pain?

She had finally started to believe he was safe. He hadn’t harmed her since that first night; he had cared for her. He had comforted her when she had woken from nightmares. He had defended her from Zabini. He had healed her wound instead of punishing her for burning the breakfast. He had shown her affection.  
He had been so gentle when he touched her, almost loving. He had asked her about her thoughts and had actually listened. He had done all the things she had always wanted from the Dursleys and she had started to believe that he actually cared, that someone might actually want her for reasons other than being the “Chosen one.”  
But then tonight had happened. 

What was wrong with her? She had liked the kiss, liked it more than she thought she could. She liked the way he touched her, he treated her with reverence. She felt like she would melt into his touch when he kissed her eyelids like she was something precious. She should have dealt with her fear and let him continue. Now he was furious and he would probably never look at her in the same soft way again; but she had been so scared. 

It was so long since she had felt as weak and out of control as she did in that situation. She couldn’t move her arms at all under Severus’ vicelike grip. She couldn’t push him off and she couldn’t pretend that the touches were anything other than sexual this time. She had felt his erection against her and her blood crystallised in the icy flood of fear that rippled through her. She should have let him do it anyway. She should have learnt to control herself.

She was a freak. An ungrateful, filthy freak and now he hated her.

XXX

Snape woke the next morning, to the sound of clattered pans and cupboard doors creaking open, with a stiff back. 

Harry was in the kitchen making blueberry pancakes when he left the bed chambers. She stepped past the counters and timidly onwards towards Snape.

“Did you sleep well Sev?” she asked shyly. When she received no response, she hesitated, before stretching up towards him, as though to kiss his cheek.

Snape took a voluntary step backwards. No more intimacy.

Hurt flashed through Harry’s eyes and she blinked rapidly, heart pounding with ill-concealed fear and nervousness, imitating Snape’s actions by stepping away. “I- uhh made you breakfast.” She gestured towards the countertop, averting her gaze and trying her best to look like nothing was wrong.

Snape continued to avoid and ignore her throughout the day and Harry was at a loss for what to say when Dray asked what was wrong.

She didn’t fully understand her own hurt.

 

She craved the affection because it was so seldom shown and this sudden change hurt her far more than the physical punishment she had expected from him. 

XXX

It was Friday night, the night before the Hogmead trip and Severus lent against the bar counter of a club in muggle London watching a dark haired young man dancing from over the rim of his glass.  
The man would occasionally shoot him a glance, each progressively more suggestive than the last but still, Severus stood at the bar doing nothing more than watching.

The young man was headed towards him now and Severus smirked inwardly.

“Are you just going to stand there and watch or are you going to dance with me?” The dark-haired man asked, ice blue eyes glittering devilishly up at Snape.

Severus lowered his drink on to the counter and walked into the crowd, followed closely by the man.  
The stranger danced well and Snape couldn’t help but stare at the well-toned chest that was clearly defined by the too-tight shirt.  
The man was moving against him now and Severus pulled his hips possessively towards himself, his hand roaming downwards to find a denim clad cheek, eliciting a groan from the dancer. The man nipped at Severus’s neck murmuring his accent in to his ear.   
“Upstairs.” The dancer intoned huskily and Snape followed him through the crowd up to the rooms above the club, his trousers feeling uncomfortably tight.

As soon as they were through the door, Severus had the stranger pinned against the wall and was tugging the too-tight shirt over the man’s head before tossing it aside.

Severus’ eyes drank in the sight of the man. He was toned and slightly tanned with a trail of dark hair starting below his navel that disappeared beyond the waistband of his jeans. Severus wanted nothing more than to see where that trail led and the dancer looked like he had no intention of stopping him.

The man was hurriedly attempting to unbutton Snape’s shirt, watching him hungrily. Snape’s fingers fumbled to assist him, for once, entirely forgetting the scars that marred his back.

Severus hands unbuttoned his own trousers and he pulled them off, the eager young man doing the same.

He pulled Snape against himself and Snape groaned at the feeling of naked flesh beneath his own, it had been too long. The dancer captured his lips in a clumsy, desperate kiss, his back still to the wall.  
Snape could feel the man’s growing erection against his thigh and pushed his hips against him. The man gasped, his eyes closing. “More.” He grunted and Severus obliged, a finger tweaking at a dusky nipple, his mouth on the man’s neck, his hand trailing down the man’s abdomen.

Severus dropped to his knees and looked up questioningly. “Please” the stranger begged, throwing his head back, and Snape chuckled. Severus ran his tongue along the vein on the underside of the man’s length and swirled his tongue over its head, collecting the beads of precome, the stranger convulsing in pleasure. Severus swallowed as far as his throat would allow before pulling back. The man cried out, his hips bucking outwards and his hands tangling in Severus long black hair. 

Severus forced the man’s back against the wall, hands placing pressure against his hips, continuing maddeningly slowly.

“Oh god!” the man cried out “Faster.” He tugged at Severus’s head and Severus slid his mouth back over the velvety length, picking up his pace. The man moaned, grip on Severus hair tightening. Snape could feel the man’s legs weakening and knew he was close to the edge. Severus hummed, pushing forwards and the man cried out as the taste warm, salty, sweet liquid graced Severus’ tongue.

The man was slumped against the wall, looking like a puppet whose strings had been cut as he panted, attempting to catch his breath.

Severus struggled to his feet, his knees aching and stretched out hand to run his thumb over a stubbled cheek.

“Your turn –uh- what’s your name?” The man said, his hands seeking Severus’s achingly hard erection.

Severus chuckled again and steered the young man towards the bed.

“Severus” his voice sounded gravelly with lust. Snape was lying down now and the man was tugging at his erection, his tongue darting across his lips as he looked at Snape’s darkening eyes.

Severus’ back arched off the bed and he barely stifled a moan of pleasure. “Severus.” The man repeated his name back with an odd sort of reverence like he was attempting to see how the word felt in his mouth. The word amplified Severus' arousal.

“And yours?” Snape could barely get the words out. The blood that had previously occupied his brain had somehow vacated it. 

“James.” The man said, cupping Severus’ balls and rolling them gently against each other.

Snape sat up abruptly and pushed the man’s hands away looking at his dark hair and brown eyes and feeling sick, his erection wilting. “What did you say?” he asked.

“Uhhh – James?” The man repeated cautiously.

Severus slid off the bed and fumbled for his trousers, pulling them on. 

“What’s the matter? Have I done something wrong?” the man’s brow was creased in concern.

Severus faltered half way through buttoning his shirt. “No, you just – well, you just remind me of someone. Thank you for this and I’m sorry but I just can’t.” 

“Was it a partner?” the man asked confusedly. 

“Quite the opposite actually.”

Snape left the room without another word leaving the man standing alone, open mouthed.

Severus needed a drink, badly.

XXX

Harry sat on the couch in their chambers trying desperately to focus on her work, but it was futile.

Severus hadn’t come back to their chambers. He was almost 2 hours late.

He was avoiding her, and it was all her fault.

She walked into their library and pulled a book off the shelf, attempting to distract herself by reading. The book was of little interest and she found herself turning to the door every time she heard a slight noise. It wasn’t Severus.

What if it wasn’t that he was angry with her? What if he had been summoned?

She had been sitting here, feeling sorry for herself when for all she knew, Severus was being tortured.

She felt physically ill and moved to the lounge, staring at the door and waiting with baited breath.  
It was nearing one in the morning before the portrait finally swung open. Severus stumbled through the door and collapsed onto the couch.  
“Severus!” Harry gasped. “Are you okay? Have you been hurt? Where have you been?” her heart was beating erratically.

Severus turned his unsteady gaze on her. “You should be in bed.” He slurred and Harry could smell the alcohol on his breath.

“You’re drunk?” she said in confusion that quickly turned to anger. “You utter arsehole!” she shrieked, thumping his chest with her fist. “I’ve been waiting for HOURS! I had no idea where you were. I thought you had been summoned, that you could have been hurt, and you were out drinking?!” 

Snape winced at the shouting and waited for the world to stop spinning.

Her expression softened, a look of sorrow infecting her beautiful features. “You should have told me you were going out you idiot.”

She crawled onto the couch, looking furtive and fearful of his response, before she moved to tug Snape’s arm over her shoulder and lay her head on his chest.

“No Harry.” Snape pushed her away. 

Face shuttered, heart beating erratically, Harry tried again, keeping her tone light, but not touching him. He was already angry, and Harry knew all too well that anger and alcohol were a dangerous combination. “Come to bed with me Sev, the couch must be uncomfortable.”

“Stop Harry. We’re not doing this.”

Harry’s expression hardened, anger dissolving some of her fear. “How on earth do you expect us to pretend out there when we can’t even pretend in here?” 

“We will because we have to.” Snape snarked, massaging his temples.

 

Because we have to… that was the crux of it, wasn’t it? Harry thought bitterly to herself. He had cared not because she was ‘just Harry’, not even because she was the chosen one, but because he had to. She couldn’t decide which was worse.  
Actually, she knew which was worse. Snape’s obligation was worse because it had deceived her into thinking he cared and having that taken away was far worse than the knowledge that every relationship she had ever had was most likely insincere.  
She turned on her heel and stalked into the bedroom disguising her hurt behind a wall of anger. She didn’t want morning to come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lots of exciting things coming up in the next chapter...
> 
> Love you guys!
> 
> LRW xxx


	15. And they all came tumbling down

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are no words to redeem my neglect of this fic, so in apology, I will post 2, very long chapters.
> 
> Perhaps you should skim the previous chapter if you've forgotten what happened. Its been a long wait but hopefully, it's worth it.
> 
> Much love, LRW

Severus and Harry walked side by side through the corridors of Hogwarts. Heads turned and whispers followed them as they passed.

Harry was wearing the white fitted robes that Severus had had made for her, looking the image of angelic purity, and beauty; her hair falling in soft, red curls over her shoulders.

Severus was wearing his usual billow of black but the robes were open at the front revealing a many buttoned, above the knee cloak, with sleeves that extended to cover most of his palm, tight fitted pants and something akin to riding boots. His hair, that no longer contained the thick gel-like substance that protected him from overexposure to potion fumes, looked somewhat untamed; not like the usual greasy curtains that he hid behind.

The juxtaposition of this, the saviour of the Wizarding world, who represented all that was light and good, with this dark and twisted shadow of a man, believed to be allied with the most evil wizard in history, was too great of an incongruity for many to reconcile.

They were walking through the grounds now, chatting amicably and acting for all the world as if they were a loving couple, not two people who had been forced into a bond neither desired. Severus, Harry noted gratefully, was not displaying any of the anger or distance he had imposed on her over the last few days, because of her behaviour.

Fresh snow crunched underfoot and Harry was immensely grateful for the warmth of her cloak. It was a wonderful gift – one that had not, however, changed the way she felt about Snape. He had been punishing her for pushing him away with her magic when things had gotten too far – he’d been ignoring her for days. He left her alone in their chambers with no way of knowing where he was.

He had told her he cared for her only out of obligation.

The anger and hurt she’d felt last night hadn’t yet dissipated. It was an uncomfortable weight in her chest and she, as vindictive as the feeling was, had a burning desire to hurt him too. Not too much, just enough so that she could feel as if she’d got him back. 

They were supposed to be acting like they were comfortable around each other, right?  
An idea burgeoned in Harry’s mind. She’d get to vent her frustrations without Snape (or anybody else, for that matter) even figuring out her true intentions. Best yet, it would all be under the guise of playfulness. 

If Harry was entirely honest, forcing the uptight Potions Master to behave playfully would be an added bonus. She smirked inwardly.

Severus, realising only now that Harry had fallen back, turned back with confusion on his face and a question on his lips, only to see a ball of compacted snow being lobbed in his direction.

It hit him squarely on his forehead, the snowball breaking apart and slipping in chunks down his face, leaving flecks of snow in his hair. 

Harry doubled over in laughter at the look of his shock, her eyes widening in surprise as he too stooped to gather up snow. She turned tail and ran, scooping up snow as she went, shrieking and giggling as she tried to evade his grenades. 

“Harry!” Snape called out and she faltered, looking around, as a snowball hit her back. Bugger. The man had moves.   
Students were watching the display of ‘affection’ in abject horror. Their most feared professor and Harriet Potter, the saviour of the Wizarding world; pelting each other with snowballs? They were acting like little more than children!

Harry hit Snape yet again with a well-aimed throw and he began to chase her down. Widening her eyes, she realized that her chances of getting away were slim. She tried and failed to skip out of his reach, but he caught her from behind, spinning her around, his arms around her waist. 

“Got you,” He laughed throatily, slowing the spin. 

He stood, his chest against her back, hot bursts of air coming out against her ear. He turned her around, smoothing snowflakes out of her hair, his hands moving to her waist. She brought her face towards his, her lips inches away, but when he lent forwards, she pulled back. 

She was close again now, close enough that Snape could see the flecks of green in her eyes. She would bring her mouth as close to his as possible without their lips actually touching before pulling ever so slightly away, repeating the motion teasingly.

“Tease,” Snape growled, loosening his grip on her waist to lace his fingers through her hair. She took the momentary lapse in his hold over her to wiggle free and she dashed away, laughing maniacally.  
Snape chased her, but she was too fast. He feigned his exhaustion and collapsed on the ground, flushed and panting.  
Harry peered cautiously over him and extended a hand to help him up. Instead of using the arm to his aid he tugged her down with him. The tussle began, each fighting for dominance, both rolling over the other in a fight to be on top.

Severus conceded defeat at last, rolling onto his back with Harry on top of him. He didn’t want to repeat the situation of nights ago; Harry terrified at being pinned down, especially not in a public place. 

“I win,” she smirked, her face contorted evilly; glowing with the thrill of the game above him.

He could see the individual flecks of snow on her eyelashes and her cheeks, which were flushed from exertion and cold.

“What do you win, exactly?” Severus drawled.

“Erm,” Her face screwed up in mock concentration, well aware of the many eyes on them, before lighting up as if struck by an idea. “Ah! I win a kiss,” she said in only partly feigned excitement before her features softened. 

She lowered her head tentatively, dangling the proverbial carrot for just a little while longer before capturing his lips between hers. Severus’s eyes closed, allowing himself to enjoy the feeling for a moment.

She trailed fire over his cheeks with her fingertips and spread warmth through his chest with her gentle affection. 

“I think I win, actually,” Snape said, his voice gravelly. He broke off the kiss and traced her features with his eyes. 

Harry snickered, her hands tugging slightly at his hair to bring his face closer before kissing him once more, her tongue skimming lightly over his lips. He opened his mouth to accept it, his arm circling her waist.

Oh, Merlin, how she had missed this warmth and care, even only if she had been without it for two days.

“We should go.” She breathed against his lips, and Severus nodded, reluctantly.

Harry wondered if the reluctance too was an act; she knew the rest was.

XXX

The couple spent the rest of the day in Hogsmead. They went into a robe shop and ordered a collection of outfits in a plethora of different styles and colours to be made for Harry. Harry hated that the reason for his purchases was due to his belief that her own clothes were inadequate.  
Severus took her into the Three Broomsticks, his fingers laced between her own, and he sat her down at one of the cracked, vinyl booths that were characteristic of Rosemerta’s bar. Striding over to the counter, he bought them Butterbeers which spread warmth to Harry’s toes, as they sipped between casual conversation, all to aid the pretence, of course. This was an act, Harry reminded herself. 

The rest of their Hogsmead trip passed without incident. They stopped by the apothecary to restock potions supplies and went to the grocers to buy ingredients for that night’s supper. Harry’s heart constricted. This seemed so normal, so real but it wasn’t.

Of course, Harry pulled a grumbling Severus into Honeydukes to buy liquorish wands, ice mice and bars of Honeyduke’s finest chocolate and left beaming, her money pouch considerably lighter.

Severus rolled his eyes at her excitable immaturity. Sweets were her definitely her weakness. Ron would understand she thought reminiscently. She felt an ache for her old life and her old friends. 

Everything had changed so quickly. It was hard for Harry to reconcile.

She shook herself of the thought. It did not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live, Harry thought, remembering Dumbledore’s words from her first year. It did not do to dwell on nightmares either.

They headed back towards Hogwarts as the sun began to set. Harry looked at the darkening sky. It looked like it was going to be a clear night with no clouds – the stars were going to be beautiful. Suddenly, she realized she hadn’t been keeping track of the phases of the moon. Shit. She looked wildly into the night sky, searching desperately for even the faintest sliver of a crescent against the light specked inky black.   
It wasn’t there.

“Harry, what’s wrong?” Severus asked, concern on his face; lowering bags of food to the floor. Food for their dinner…

Oh god, their dinner with Dray! What was she going to do? What on earth could she say?

“Nothing, Sev. I’m fine. I just thought I’d hunt down Draco and… remind her about tonight.” Harry smiled falsely. “I uhh – don’t really feel like cooking right now.”

Severus kept his face impassive and nodded. She was still angry then. All the better; at least they didn’t have to sustain the pretence. 

That was a lie, of course, but he refused to acknowledge it. They continued the walk up to Hogwarts.  
As soon as Harry had dumped the stuff they’d bought on the kitchen countertop, she left their chambers, making a beeline for her usual new moon haunt. Ah, the sweet abandoned charms classroom – her personal hell! 

With the time left to her, she constructed her wards and cleared a space in the back corner of the classroom. She transfigured a lumpy cushion out of one of the old chairs and settled herself face down on the cold, bare, flagstone floors, face hidden in the pillow, waiting for the pain to come. 

XXX

The table was set, and the meal was prepared. Severus sat, nursing a drink and waiting for the imminent arrival of his bond mate and his goddaughter. 

There was a knock on the door and Severus stood swiftly before reaching for the door handle.  
Draconian stood alone outside his chambers, a neatly wrapped present in her hands. Severus peered past her down the corridor, his heart sinking slightly.

“Where’s Harry?” he kept his tone even, not wanting alert her to the fact that something was definitely wrong.

His goddaughter looked confused.

“What do you mean? She was with you all morning, wasn’t she?” Draconian frowned and her delicate eyebrows drew down in worry. 

Severus chest felt tight. Why would Harry lie to him?

“No, I haven’t seen her since we got back. She was feeling unwell, she went to visit Pomfrey when we got back. No matter, only, I thought she’d be back by now,” Snape lied smoothly. 

“I could always fetch her, Severus,” Draco said, raising a single eyebrow at him. “Or we could wait, of course.” Severus shook his head.   
“If she hasn’t arrived yet, there must be a good reason. I think it best we let her rest. I will go and see her after our meal,” he lied, hoping Draconian wouldn’t push it. There most certainly was a reason she hadn’t arrived but Severus didn’t want Draco finding out about their fight.

Their meal was stilted and painfully awkward. The table had been set for three – a constant reminder of Harry’s absence. Neither party mentioned it, however – Severus out of a lack of desire to raise such an awkward topic and Draco out of respect.

Severus couldn’t wait until desert was over so that this humiliating ordeal could end. He hugged his goddaughter goodbye, bidding her a good night and warning her of the difficulty of the next Potions test, before he flooed to the infirmary, both to aid his pretence and to make certain that the lie that he had told about Harry being in the infirmary was, in fact, a lie. 

She wasn’t there, of course. He felt altogether relieved and angry. She hadn’t been hurt but where on earth was she? When he got back to their chambers, Harry still hadn’t arrived. 

He paced like a caged animal fretting about the intent behind her actions. His insides burned with humiliation and hurt. This bond may be false, but he’d like to think that Potter wasn’t this cruel. 

Merlin! Why was he even surprised? She was James Potter’s daughter after all. 

He stormed into their bedchambers, the door slamming against the wall without being touched, irrationally hoping that Harry would be in there. The room was empty.

 

That was when he remembered the Map. 

Oh, that infernally clever little Map – the one that showed a labelled dot of every person on Hogwarts grounds, no matter their location, nor their desire to remain hidden. 

He scrounged through his desk drawer until he found the dirty, unassuming parchment. Tapping it with his wand, he spoke its strange password and lines branched out like a spider web from the point that his wand had touched the page.

‘Messrs. Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs are proud to present: The Marauders Map.’  
Snape spread the parchment open, immediately seeking her footprints in Gryffindor Tower but search as he may, he could not find them. He scanned the corridors between Gryffindor tower and the dungeons in the hope that she might be on her way back from her little adventure. Finding nothing, he desperately searched the kitchens and the headmaster’s office, his eyes roving the almost entirely empty grounds until finally, he found a lone marker, out of bed, after dark. 

Her labelled dot was alone in the old charms classroom. Pulling on a cloak, he began a long, angry stalk towards his bondmate.

The room was well warded and with a feeling of angry humiliation, he began to strip away savagely at the protective charms.

XXX

Harry was lying face down on the ground when he arrived, her breath coming out in hissed pants, her hands curled into fists. She didn’t seem to have noticed his arrival, which was odd. Severus did not enter quietly, nor did Harry bad ears.   
“Harry?” Snape said sharply. The only sign that she had heard him were her hands which jerked up to further shelter her head from his view and her breathing, which had ceased entirely.  
“What on earth are you doing? Get up.” His voice was harsh and unforgiving.

She didn’t respond for a moment but then shaking hands pushed her torso slightly off the ground. They trembled violently and gave in as if she were unable to support her own weight.

Severus could smell vomit.

“Are you drunk, Potter?” Snape growled. She was just like her father. He had been right about her from the beginning, after all.

A small voice in his head niggled that he’d done the same to her only yesterday, but this was different because they had made plans to be together when she left unannounced. 

She didn’t reply, her breathing laboured. 

“Get up, Potter, you arrogant toerag!” There was vitriol in his voice and she jerked as if flinching away. 

She half crawled, half dragged herself across the floor to the wall, pulling herself up by gripping onto the rough stone wall, her shoulders heaving from exhaustion. She was facing the corner, and held onto the wall as if it were a lifeline.   
“Why did you not come to dinner, Potter?” His voice was dangerously low, and silky. Harry pushed her forehead against the wall, not uttering a word. “Look at me, foolish girl!” he shrieked, and she cowered, hiding her face further before turning slowly towards him, lifting her bowed head.  
Severus went cold. Her left eye was blackened and swollen shut but that wasn’t the reason for Severus fear, it was her weight.

She was impossibly thin. Sallow skin was stretched over her skull and her hair hung lank and unhealthy looking. She bowed her head in an attempt to hide what he’d already seen.  
He stepped towards her, his voice shaking with anger. “Who did this to you?”

She shook her head infinitesimally. “No one. I’m fine. You see? It’s fine.” She gestured towards her face, her other hand, white knuckled against the wall behind her. Her voice was barely a whisper and it quavered with what Snape now knew to be pain. She looked back up and the bruise that had been there moments before had faded into obscurity.  
She still looked gaunt, her new white robes hanging loosely off her. She was attempting to smile, to act like nothing was wrong, in the futile hope that Severus would believe her words.

She buckled over, her hands compressing her stomach, just above her left hip bone. “Leave. Please.” She begged between gasps of pain.

“Show me, Potter.” Snape said more calmly now. 

She ducked, shaking her head while squeezing her eyes shut, a single tear slipping down her cheek. 

Snape moved closer and she reluctantly loosened her hold, extending a shaking, blood covered hand, her palms turning upward, her face growing steadily paler.  
Snape looked down in horror to see crimson red spreading into her white robes. 

“Harry!” Snape leapt forwards as she keeled over. He caught her, lowering her gently to the ground.

His hands scrabbled to undo her cloak to see the cause of the bleeding.

There was a deep cut as if someone had driven a knife into her side. The wound was looking gradually more infected, appearing as if it were healing badly in fast-forwarded time. She was fading in and out of consciousness and Severus pulled out his wand, casting cleaning charms over the injury, banishing the blood-soaked robes entirely.

He was trying to make sense of it. There were finger shaped bruises around her wrists like the ones he had left, only bigger. Scars and bruises littered her body. Now that her robes had been removed, her malnourishment was sickeningly apparent. Every single rib was clearly defined, and her hip bones jutted out skeletally. 

He thought about shaking her awake, but she looked utterly breakable. He pulled off his cloak, wrapping it gently around her, both to ward off the cold and because the sight of her like this terrified him more than he would like to admit. 

“Enervate” Severus spat hoarsely. 

Harry’s sunken eyes fluttered open, filling with pain.

She immediately rolled onto her side, hugging his cloak around herself, her chest heaving. Snape wondered if her back had been injured too and she was trying to alleviate that pain.

She started choking, hands scrabbling at her neck in an attempt to pull away an invisible force. Her mouth gaped open like a fish that had been removed from water, producing awful choking noises, her legs kicking aimlessly. Her eyes rolled back into her sockets, her mouth open in a scream that could never leave her.

Snape knelt, pushing her hair out of the way of her damp face and neck, her lips were turning steadily bluer and red hand imprints were darkening around her neck. The charms Snape cast to banish the invisible force, were ineffective and then, as suddenly as it had come, the force had disappeared. Harry sucked in lungful’s of air, her breaths rattling, colour returning to her lips and cheeks.

The red imprints gradually purpled into bruises.

She was experiencing injuries in accelerated time; that much was obvious. Was it a dark spell or a curse?

Severus transfigured a desk into a bed and stooped next to Harry, he didn’t want to risk levitation.  
“Harry?” he whispered so as not to startle her. “I’m going to pick you up, alright?” 

She jerked despite his warning, as his hand slipped around her upper back and his other, under her legs. “Blood” she warned hoarsely, wincing at some unseen pain. Severus glanced down, brows knitting, still stooped on the floor, with his arms around her. She strained feebly, as though trying to escape his grasp, and then looked up at him, eyes wide and fearful. “Getting blood on you.” she said. Severus didn’t respond, only pulled her closer, so that her head rested against him. She pushed her forehead against his collar bone, stifling a sob, her arms finally, if loosely encircling him. A hoarse “Sorry.” was whispered, almost too soft for Severus to register.

Severus lifted her up, shocked at how light she was, and carried her across the room. He could feel the wetness of her silent tears soaking into his shirt. She didn’t seem to recognise who he was, she was too lost in the pain, she recognised only that his touches were kind and she moved further into that comfort and protection.

He sat on the edge of the bed, cradling her torso against his chest. He rubbed soothing circles into her back and rocked backwards and forwards until every last bit of rigid tension left her body and her warm breaths, against his neck, slowed.  
He tried to shift her off of him, to place her on the bed. Her grip around his neck tightened briefly, but then her arms slackened, and she allowed herself to be put down. Immediately curling in on herself, she buried her face in a pillow she clutched, mirroring her earlier position where she’d held him, with her face pressed against his neck.   
“I’m not going Harry, I just wanted to put you down.” Severus said soothingly, sitting on the makeshift bed, combing his finger through her sweat-damp hair.

 

His cloak, still wrapped around her, had slipped down slightly and Severus could see belt shaped bruise marks criss-crossing her back, that gradually yellowed with age. Occasionally she would jerk and suck in air as fresh marks appeared. Severus watched her swipe away tears roughly, not wanting him to see. 

She mumbled words that Severus couldn’t make out, muffled as they were against the pillow. She raised her head, turning. Panicked hazel eyes met his and she spoke again. “Arm.” she muttered, and her eyes darted down to her upheld arm her other hand moving to block her mouth with a balled-up fist, her body stiffening in anticipation.  
There were no visible marks and Severus frowned in confusion. “What’s wrong Harry?”  
With a sickening CRACK! Harry’s wrist snapped, bending in an awkward angle. Her shriek of pain was muffled by the fist she was biting into. She pulled her fist away, grunting, the raw agony shining in her eyes as she secured the wrist, attempting to force the bone into its correct position.

Severus understood the urgency. If the bones healed as fast as the rest of the injuries, she had limited time in which to re-orientate the bone so that it could heal correctly. 

“Allow me,” He instructed, brushing her hand aside so that he could hold the fragile bones together. She writhed off the bed, choking back her moans of pain. 

She had anticipated the injury, which implied that this was a recurrent curse. What determined the order of the injuries? They seemed to come at random, yet there had to be some kind of order for her to have known the break was coming. Had she been tortured? Were these injuries mirroring her torture? Was she reliving injuries she had witnessed? They couldn’t have been injuries she, herself had experienced over time; he had looked for memories of abuse and seen nothing. 

“How long?” He inquired, his grip on her wrist tightening.

Confusion filled those green flecked eyes and Severus repeated the question. “How long have you been experiencing the curse?”  
She looked away and if Severus wasn’t much mistaken, she looked terrified. The worst thing was – she wasn’t frightened of the injuries. It was directed towards Severus himself. Harry was scared of him. 

“Th-the graveyard.” She stuttered, eyes focusing on something beyond her upheld wrist, not meeting his hard gaze.

Anger and bile rose in his throat. This had been happening since the end of the Tri-Wizard Cup and she hadn’t spoken to anyone? What could have motivated her to endure such circumstances alone? He released her wrist, as if burned, and she curled further in on herself, turning her head away from him. He couldn’t help but notice the fresh tear tracks before she turned.

Harry grunted in muffled pain once again and Severus smelled the metallic scent of copper in the air as the sheets around his lower legs grew sticky, warm and wet with what had to be blood. Severus pulled back the sheets, melodically whispering healing charms. They were ineffectual, and his heart sank.

With another sickening crack, bruises blossomed over her chest. Her protruding ribs dented where they had been broken, a sight that had Severus swallowing down a moan in sympathy for the girl. 

The lack of noise she made frightened Severus. It was unnatural, somehow. How Gryffindor – to be too brave to let anyone hear her scream.

Harry leant over the side of the transfigured bed and vomited, and remained there, head bowed in shame.

 

“I’ll clean it, sir. My magic won’t work, but when this ends, I’ll clean it.” She spoke, her voice thick with tears of shame.   
Her magic was ineffective while the curse was active. Snape stored that new piece of information for later review. For now, there were other more pressing matters. 

He tugged her chin upwards so that he could see her eyes. “First of all, Potter, if you are in pain, you may make as much noise as you need to. I will not think any less of you for being human.” He couldn’t help the biting sarcasm that infected his tone at those words – sarcasm had to be better than rolling one’s eyes after all. “Secondly, if you think for even a moment that I care about being dirtied or having the room dirtied by your blood or vomit, then you are more of an imbecile then I thought. Bleed at your leisure, Potter.”

The slight increase in pressure against his hand that cupped her cheek let him know that she was leaning into the touch. Emboldened, he ran a thumb over the wet, salty trails. Her eyes closed and she turned her face into his palm.

She made an abortive move toward his wrist, not quite touching it, before she pulled her hand back uncertainly.

Severus made a snap decision. He removed his hand from her cheek and stretched out next to her on the bed, before pulling her over him, until she was held protectively against his chest. She didn’t resist, weak with exhaustion.

“What’s hurting the most?” Severus asked, his fingers tracing her cheek.   
Harry closed her eyes, her head on his steadily rising chest. She didn’t speak for a long while. “My stomach,” she groaned softly “It doesn’t. Stop. Hurting.” Without though, Severus hand came to rest on her stomach as she went on. “It aches all the time.” She winced, chewing her lip, obviously unsure of her next words. “I’m so hungry.”   
She turned her face into his chest, slinging her leg over his. Severus pulled his hand back so that it didn’t get caught between them, and after a moment’s hesitation, he wrapped his arms around her, pressing his lips into her hair. Her hands bunched his soft shirt and she snuggled deeper, moving her head as if burrowing into him.  
His chest rose and fell in a gentle, steady rhythm as he traced the bruises on her back with his eyes, praying that for even a moment, her back might be left blemish-less. No such luck – there were always bruises, whether fading from obscurity or blooming over smooth skin, -- there was never a moment without the discolouration.  
She would wince sometimes, and Severus would ask what hurt if he couldn’t see it. Sometimes, it was rope burns on her wrists, or her nose would break, both her eyes blackening, blood spreading over Severus’ chest (this was accompanied with apologetic mumblings, that he ignored). Sometimes it was a fracture or a split lip. Once she cried out loud, pulling her injured hand against her chest and clutching it with the other. He looked and saw an index finger that must have been slammed in a door. He wrapped his hand around the finger and kissed the tip, smiling because the first injury that had made her cry was an injured finger, instead of the dog bite, broken bones and knife wound that had preceded it.  
Harry laughed weakly as the pain dissipated and jokingly said “Look, you kissed it better.” As the finger rapidly healed

Her expression became guarded, and Severus’ heart sank. He’d enjoyed the way the distraction lit up her features with a smile, instead of leaving her face marred with a grimace of pain. Was he going soft? She affected him so…

He raised her arm to his lips and he kissed the finger shaped bruise marks around her wrist and then the fading bruise on her eye. The guarded look dissipated, and Harry relaxed further against him.

When he had exhausted the areas that were reachable from the position they had lain in, he rolled over so that Harry lay on her back on the bed. He kissed the tip of her crooked nose, banishing the blood with a swift wave of his wand. He kissed the fractured collar bone and the newly healed ribs.   
He kissed each scar, careful not to touch what he couldn’t see in case a new injury appeared while he wasn’t looking. Severus pulled her into his arms, her legs tangled in his, her head on his chest. He pressed kisses into her hair, his hands cupping the back of her head, just above her nape, and his other hand at her back.   
Both of their intentions were far from sexual, despite her state of undress.

Severus swept Lily’s red hair out of the way of Harry’s back to reveal the yellowed bruising and the occasional scar and gentled his touch over bruise on the back of Harry’s neck. She shivered involuntarily.  
He was nearing the small of her back when Harry lurched, crying out. Snape looked up to see the skin of her arm reddening and bubbling with the clear signs of a burn. He couldn’t kiss that better.  
He shifted so that his eyes were in line with her own. “Look at me, that’s it – look at me, Harry.” She turned her face towards his and he cupped it between his hands, resting his forehead against hers. “Focus on me Harry.” He said softly and Harry nodded her head awkwardly against his own.  
Her pained pants slowed as her focus shifted, the burn slowly being forgotten for Snape’s soothing words.  
“Sev’rus” Harry warned, “my shoulder.” Snape moved back in wait of the coming injury, watching her shoulder intently as it dislocated. He wished this torture would end, for her sake. 

XXX

The beatings had only worsened. It appeared that the use of the belt had been replaced with the use of the buckle and Harry’s back bled from the beatings. Sometimes she would slip back into silence and Snape would have to remind her that she could cry out if she needed to.

She never gained weight and occasionally she would gag from the pain, but nothing would come up, for her stomach was already empty. Her skin became gradually sallower as if she had been sheltered from sunlight; her arms almost constantly raw with rope burns like she had been tied up.   
Severus had taken up his position on his back again and Harry snuggled weakly against his side, her head on his chest. 

Bone breaks occurred more frequently but they also seemed somehow to heal more rapidly. Snape couldn’t make sense of it. Harry seemed to anticipate every-one.

The only time he had seen anything that had even remotely resembled Harry’s curse, it had been dark magic used as a means to torture the Death Eaters en masse. The Death Eaters had been magically linked so that each experienced the torture of the other. That wasn’t what this was.

The injuries seemed to have slowed. Severus’s wish was finally granted for the bruises on Harry’s back faded entirely and weren’t replaced. Her back wasn’t blemish-less, however, as the scars still marred the otherwise milky skin.

“Is it over, Harry?” Severus asked hopefully. She shook her head. “It’ll go on for a while still,” she rasped. 

Harry gradually gained weight and Severus rubbed her back. 

“I can feel your magic.” She whispered.  
He looked down at the top of her head. “You can?” he asked.

“It pulses like your heartbeat but different. I can feel it all over. It’s nice. The pain isn’t so bad with you.” She yawned, her grip on his robes slackening.

For the first time, Severus started to see magical injuries appear, almost harmless jinxes that made you sprout suction cups all over your face or the tell-tale signs of an inexperienced, young wizards magic that had backfired. Harry slept through them, shifting unconsciously to nuzzle against the silky hairs that fell against Snape’s neck.

The minutes stretched on and Harry filled out slightly, her cheeks becoming less hollow. She was still underweight but definitely healthier looking than she had been when Severus first arrived.  
Snape had finally started to think the worst was over when they started happening again.

XXX

Harry woke slightly disorientated, with her head resting on something warm. Her cheek throbbed from a graze she didn’t remember getting and the object on which she lay rose and fell in steady breaths. It was new moon, she remembered, and Snape was with her. Snape was somehow making this feel a little less terrible.  
She felt the magical burn-marks that Quirrel had given her as she tried to protect the Philosopher’s Stone appear and she waited, keeping her breathing steady for the phantom of Madam Pomfrey to heal them. 

She hated what the burns signified for to her – they signalled the end of her first year and her return to the Dursleys - her return to the years of torture and pain and abuse.

She rested her head on Snape’s chest, allowing his magic to thrum through her.

The worst part wasn’t the beatings or the bruises or the breaks, it was the hunger. It gnawed at her insides, making her feel weak and shaky.

Her stomach acid, having nothing to break down, ate away at the lining of her stomach leaving it aching and ulcered. The pain never went away, and it was difficult to forget, her body constantly reminding her of her need to eat. She’d have to work hard to finish her chores if she wanted food tonight. 

 

No, she didn’t, she reminded herself. She was at Hogwarts, she wasn’t with the Dursleys; she could eat as much as she liked.   
It was easy to slip into her routine of being with the Dursleys for to her – the pain of the curse was synonymous with work and punishment and starvation, synonymous with the Dursleys. 

Having Snape with her here had been a welcome distraction, for she was able to elude the nightmare that was ‘going home’ to the Dursleys.  
She had heard Dudley say those words a thousand times. ‘Kiss it better, Mummy,’ he had wailed, and she had wholeheartedly believed that kisses really did make injuries better.  
It was all she desired – affection – and Severus willingly gave it. Then, she remembered last night. He did it because he had to. But he didn’t have to, did he? Not here anyway. He could have ignored her pain like the Dursleys but instead he asked what hurt and did what he could to soothe it.

His magic soothed the pain.

Crying out soothed the pain.

His care soothed the pain.

The curse had reached Harry’s second year and she could rest again. When the bones in her arm disappeared, recognition flitted though obsidian eyes. He watched her more closely after that.  
Harry settled against him, falling asleep once more.

Snape knew. The thought left her feeling hollow and sick. After all the years of hiding her secret, and somebody knew.   
She should feel afraid. Snape would know the reason soon, and he’d tell the others. No one was supposed to know and soon they would all know. That should terrify her, and it did, to an extent, but she also felt giddy relief because the immense weight of the secret had been lifted slightly.

The pattern repeated itself after that. The pain would ease, and Harry would rest for fifteen minutes or so only to be dogged with five minutes of unbearable hunger and pain, leaving her writhing against Snape’s side. 

Harry’s fifth year loomed and the Dursleys punishments gradually healed to be replaced with the break that Severus had caused, eliciting a cry from Harry. She wondered if Snape would recognise it for what it was; if he did, he didn’t say anything. 

XXX

Severus stiffened in seeing her bruised wrists that he had caused. His eyes slid downwards noting the bruises on her hipbones. Had he caused those too? The bruises on her wrists healed in seconds but the others remained. 

He was going to ask if the curse had ended but he didn’t have to. All of her scars disappeared, except the lightning shaped one on her forehead. The skin-wrapped skeleton, that never quite gained enough weight to look healthy, instantaneously became the well-nourished, well-fed saviour that everyone knew and loved, gaining a few inches in height, her complexion becoming a perfect, creamy white. 

Snape cast a silent Finite Incantatum and sighed in relief when nothing changed. He had recognised one of Harry’s trademark injuries when all the bones in her arm had disappeared and he had thought for a sickening few moments, that Harry was reliving her all of her own injuries.   
This show of returning to her usual weight and height, with barely a scar marring her skin had confirmed on of his early suspicions; Harry was reliving injuries she had witnessed, whether in herself or others. 

That begged the crucial question; whose injuries was she witnessing? 

XXX

He helped Harry into the classroom’s fireplace before flooing back to their chambers.   
Harry looked uneasy, shooting Snape furtive glances in anticipation of something. It had been a long night, and Severus wanted nothing more than to sleep.

“Bed.” He instructed calmly, and relief flooded her features. “We will talk tomorrow.” Snape added sternly, and Harry looked queasy all over again.

XXX

Harry woke slowly, dread spreading through her heart and thrumming through her veins like poison. She had slept until past midday, she discovered after casting tempus, and she could no longer prolong the inevitable.

They were going to talk now because Snape knew all about her little secret. The relief she had felt the night before was entirely forgotten in the cold light of day.

His first question startled her “Who is being abused?” What was he on about?

“You are reliving the injuries that you witnessed, yes?”

That she’d witnessed, not that she’d received… He didn’t know. Harry nodded mechanically, her expression shuttered, the poison receding slightly.

“The injuries you witnessed-” he faltered, shivering involuntarily “-they were, well, you know how they felt. I want to know who is being hurt.” He spoke carefully.

Harry’s mind raced, desperately trying to think of someone she could pin this on, someone Snape wouldn’t be able to check. Her mouth was dry “A kid that lived on the streets. I used to see him on my way to school,” She lied, her face blank. That would excuse the hunger, surely?

Harry was never expressionless, that she was now, told Snape all he needed to know; she was lying. “Who was abusing him, Potter? Who would have been able to consistently beat a child with a belt on the streets?” Snape asked scathingly, watching Harry’s mind whirr in an attempt to justify the lie. “TELL THE TRUTH!” he boomed. 

Harry recoiled. “I-I can’t tell you. I promised to keep it a secret.” That part wasn’t a lie.

“Then, Potter,” Snape spat vehemently, “you leave me no choice.”

Harry winced, cowering away from Snape. What was he going to do?

Snape removed his wand from his robes and summoned a vial of colourless, odourless liquid.


	16. The cost of honesty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have posted 2 chapters and this is the second, go check out the first. ;)
> 
> I didn't leave you with horrible cliffies, do you love me?
> 
> WARNING: abuse triggers, nothing too graphic but it isn't pretty. It's the memories Snape sees, so avoid them if need be. 
> 
> xxx  
> LRW

Severua forced Harry’s mouth open with a spell, dripping three drops of Veritaserum onto her tongue as Harry struggled to turn away. The spell bound her wrists and legs to the chair so she couldn’t escape the questioning.

The potion would not only force the truth out of her mouth, but force the truth into her mind and prevent her from occluding, even if she was capable of the feat. This was cruel, but desperate times called for desperate measures. She refused to answer, and he had to stop the abuse. It was his duty.

“Legilimency.” Snape entered Harry’s mind.

Once more, Snape saw impenetrable darkness, but that seemed impossible. The memories had to be there, and Harry had no hope of occluding, surely, after the three drops of Veritaserum had made contact with her tongue. 

Snape swivelled his head, blanketed in darkness and then he saw it; a thin shaft of light at his feet. 

He heard soft sounds of breathing, of something shifting below him. He itched to cast a lumos, knowing already that it would be completely ineffective. 

There was a sharp rap of a fist on wood and the shrill voice of a woman yelled “Get up!”

The thing was shifting again and dark blossomed into light with a soft click, as a light switch was turned. 

A young Harry sat on the floor, perched on the edge of a thin matrass in what looked to be a broom-cupboard. She looked no older than seven.

She was as gaunt and unhealthy-looking as Snape had seen in the teenaged Harry mere hours ago. 

Snape’s heart stopped beating. 

She wore an oversized, tatty shirt, pants that hung loosely around her hips but were too short to reach her ankles. She tied the laces of holey, blue sneakers before standing, switching off the light and opening the door. 

She treaded gently as she moved into the kitchen, careful not to make noise. Snape wondered where the memory was headed. She set to work, cooking eggs, bacon, tomato, mushroom and sausages, the kitchen filling with smells that left Snape’s stomach rumbling.

Her eyes darted around her and, seeing no one, she broke off a small piece of bacon and popped it into her mouth. He felt her relief as she swallowed but that was soon overridden by terror.

An oversized boy had moved into the doorway and blundered off shouting “Da-ad, Harry was eating our food again!” 

Harry froze in fear as heavy footfalls announced the arrival of her puce-faced uncle. She turned slowly, her eyes fixed on the ground, her arms held rigidly at her sides.  
Snape side stepped in front of the memory-Harry. 

“What did you do?” the man boomed. 

“I ate some of the breakfast, sir.” Harry’s voice shook.

“And who gave you permission to eat?” the main said, his voice dangerously low. 

“N-no one.” Harry stuttered, her eyes still fixed on the ground. 

“Harry, Harry.” The man tutted. “It looks like you won’t be getting dinner again tonight.”

Harry’s shoulders went slack and desperation filled her voice. “Please sir, it’s been days. I finished my chores yesterday. Please, I’m so hungry.” With the last words, she looked up, her eyes meeting the pig-like ones of her uncle. 

The man back-handed her with a beefy, pink hand that went right through Severus; the hit sent Harry sprawling across the floor. “I did not give you permission to look at me, you filthy freak!” Vernon shrieked.

Severus’s wand was out of his robes in a flash, aimed at the man’s throat. His blood thundered in his ears.

“You will finish preparing the breakfast and then you will be rewarded for your insolence.” The man snarled.

Severus’s wand still held aloft; the memory faded.

XXX

Harry stood face forward against a wall. Her oversized shirt lay at her feet and her arms were spread, palms against the wall, at either side of her head. Vernon stood behind her, a belt held loosely in his hand.

Severus felt Harry’s fear and guilt. 

The belt descended, leather hitting flesh, Harry gasping in pain. He hit her relentlessly, hurling abuse between hits. 

“You’re a worthless burden. How could anyone ever want you?”

“Even your drunkard parents couldn’t wait to be rid of you.”

“You’re a filthy freak, girl, and don’t forget it.”

 

Severus could feel her emotions; they were a swirl of fear and dreadful sadness. She believed the words her uncle spoke and that alone made Severus want to torture this muggle to within an inch of his life.

“You deserve this, don’t you? You’re a pathetic waste of space.”

When Harry cried out, Dursley redoubled his efforts.

“Don’t you dare cry, freak. The neighbours wouldn’t care anyway, not for a freak like you.”

XXX

Severus could hear the sounds of a small child sobbing and pleading. He felt confusion and fear. He knew the feelings were Harry’s but he couldn’t see her.

He followed the noises, pushing the door of a bathroom open. 

Petunia Dursley was lowering a shrieking toddler into scalding hot bath water. The child struggled to get free, sobbing at the pain but Petunia held her down, pouring the water over her back with a jug, rubber gloves protecting her hands from touching the child, her nose wrinkled in disgust.

XXX

Harry sat alone in a school playground, watching the other children with envy. An oversized child that Snape recognised to be her cousin, lumbered towards Harry from behind, flanked by his cronies. 

By the time Harry noticed, it was too late.

XXX

A small child stood, quivering with fear as urine trickled down her legs. She bunched the shirt she wore into a fist, clutched against her chest as if it were a safety blanket.

In a voice so soft, it was hardly audible, the toddler spoke. “Hawwy need toilet.”

Severus felt her uncertainty and confusion, and an emotion he was getting used to feeling through Harry; terror.

“You disgusting freak!” Petunia shrieked. “Out! Get out! You can come back inside once you’re dry.”

Toddler Harry stumbled away, tears welling in her eyes but she didn’t cry out.

XXX

The memory faded and coalesced in the front hall of the Dursley’s house. Severus’ heart was racing with righteous anger and guilt that didn’t belong to him. 

“I don’t know how, the glass just disappeared, it was like magic!” Harry’s hands were raised in surrender as she backed away from her uncle. 

“There is no such thing as MAGIC!”  
A fist collided with her face and her nose broke, blood spurting down her shirt. 

“Don’t let her bleed on the floor, Vernon, dear,” Petunia simpered.

Vernon lifted the fallen Harry by the neck of her shirt, shoving her limp form into the cupboard under the stairs.

XXX

Harry had been told that she couldn’t go to school until her bruising healed. The teachers had been asking too many questions.

Severus felt her wash of bitter disappointment and her desperation.  
She wanted school because it meant an escape from the punishments, even if only for a few hours. 

She willed the bruising to disappear, and Snape watched as purple became white. His astonishment was mixed with Harry’s own.

It hadn’t healed, she had merely hidden the signs. He was certain of it, for the bruises had disappeared entirely instead of rapidly aging.

The Dursleys were conflicted for they did not know whether to punish her for her use of magic or ignore it for now they would not need to excuse her injuries.

In the end, they decided to act like nothing had happened.

XXX

Harry was being chased by a bulldog. She had scrambled up a tree, but she wasn’t fast enough.  
The dog’s teeth sunk into her ankle and she fell, hitting herself against the low hanging branch of the tree with a sickening crack, her ribs breaking.

Her cousin watched from the side-lines, doubled over in laughter.

XXX

Harry stood next to a surgically clean stove, partially obscured by smoke, the acrid smell of burnt food filling the air.

Snape had observed a scene eerily similar in his own chambers.   
“I’m sorry sir!” she pleaded. “I’ll fix it, I won’t do it again.” She shrunk back, cowering away from the large man.

“Your arm. Give me your arm now, freak.” Vernon hissed. He pulled her hand from her side when she didn’t respond to the command. He tilted the pan, pouring the boiling hot oil over her skin. She screamed in agony, begging for the pain to end.

“You’d best not forget this, girl,” He snarled. “We waste enough food on you as is, we don’t need you burning it.”

XXX

Harry was getting better at the wandless glamours; not only could she hide the injuries, she was also able to conceal her malnourishment. She was so good, in fact, that Snape was certain they were more than just simple glamours.   
She could sustain them even in her sleep.  
No one could do that unless they were metamorphmagi.

XXX

A man in the street that Severus knew to be a wizard shook a bewildered Harry’s hand vigorously up and down. Vernon pulled her away by the sleeve of her shirt, detailing the punishment she would soon receive.

Harry stumbled after him in fearful confusion, clueless as to what she’d done wrong.

XXX

Harry was tending to the garden, tugging the weeds from the earth and throwing them into a bin bag. Her movements were sluggish from exhaustion and hunger. Snape could sense her urgency; she needed food to successfully complete her chores, and she had to complete her chores to get food.

The heat from the sun in this draught was unbearable, even for Snape and he watched in horror as Harry’s eyes rolled into the back of her skull and she collapsed to the ground.

XXX

“She will not be going, I tell you!” Vernon waggled an oversized finger in Hagrid’s direction.  
Harry stood in the corner of a dingy room, a storm raging outside. She made herself as small as possible, eyes downcast, too afraid to let the giant know where she was.

XXX

Harry was nervously fiddling with a muggle report card, shifting from foot to foot, just outside the kitchen door.  
He could feel her twinge of pride and a sliver of hope. It was strange that, despite all she had gone through, she had an unerring desire to live, no matter how dire the situation was, she held out the hope that things would get better. 

The light that was Harry’s hope was gradually fading. Never before had Severus desired so deeply to keep a flame alight.

From beyond the door he could hear the sounds of a doting Petunia, crooning over how proud she was of her “Diddykins”.

Harry was steeling herself to step through the door and Snape desperately wished, for her sake, that she didn’t make a move. 

She did.

 

She held the paper out to her aunt who sneered sycophantically down at her. “What do you want girl?” she snapped. 

Harry held herself poised, not flinching once, her hand still outstretched.

“It’s my report card.” She said simply.

Petunia whipped it out of her hand, her eyes flitting across the page, her expression becoming steadily more incredulous.   
“What did you do, you filthy freak?”

XXX

“Ah, Harriet Potter, our new… celebrity.” Memory Severus sneered down at an eleven-year-old Harry. Her eyes were fixed on the ground.   
“Tell me, what would happen if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of Wormwood?”

Harry shook her head, her eyes glued to Snape’s shoes. 

“You don’t know? Well, let’s try again. Where, Miss Potter, would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?”

She swallowed thickly, still not looking up. “I don’t know, sir.”

“And what is the difference between Monkshood and Wolfsbane?”  
“I-I don’t know sir” she repeated.

“Clearly, fame isn’t everything.” Severus sneered. The Slytherins snickered. 

“10 points from Gryffindor for disrespect. Next time, Miss Potter, I expect you to look at me when I speak to you.” He snarled, his face contorted into an ugly grimace of disgust.

XXX

Harry’s was attempting to complete chores one-handed. She wasn’t moving fast enough.  
Phantom frustration burned through Snape.   
He watched as a child, no older than 8, clumsily healed a broken arm. That wasn’t possible.

XXX

“How could you do that, Harry?” Dudley crooned, trapping Harry in the corner.  
“You’re disgusting. Wait ‘til dad finds out what you did freak.” He mocked. 

Harry was overwhelmed with shame and desperation that Vernon never find out.

Snape had not even the slightest inkling of what Dudley was on about.

XXX

The memory switched to one of Snape and Harry in their chambers. 

“If the Dursleys return, you will apologise for your secrecy and reimburse them some of the money they have spent on you. It is shameful that you would keep this from them.” Severus watched himself hiss.

Snape saw anger flash through her eyes but watching her now, he knew it was anger at the injustice of what he was saying. Merlin, how could he have been so wrong? 

“Why wouldn’t you tell them?”  
Now he felt her feeling of injustice burning through him,

“You have no right to ask that. You have no right to force me to tell them. You don’t know how much they hate me. You assume too much.” Angry tears filled her eyes.

“Tell me then Potter. Tell me of their neglect. Tell me of the horrors you have faced at their hands.”  
Memory Severus’s sarcasm was obvious but now his head swam with nausea.

Tears trickled down her cheeks and she pursed her lips. She didn’t say a word.

“Exactly. You have no story to tell because you have never been neglected. You are spoilt and conceited. You don’t know what the meaning of abuse is Potter. You have never stopped to consider the sacrifice they have made. They do not hate you Potter but if they did, it would be entirely deserved.” Snape hissed. 

Anguish and hopelessness. Severus had finally managed to snuff out the light. Severus had done that to Harry.

 

It was too much to bear. Severus had never been so wrong about anything in his entire life.   
He pulled out of her mind, feeling filthy, wishing he could forget what he’d seen but Harry could never forget. Harry had lived that.

He’d made so many terrible assumptions, too numerous to count, because he had seen only what he wished to see. He had been blinded by hatred, and because of that, he had neglected an abused child.   
No, he had tormented an abused child; for five years. How could he have been so blind?   
She had been so afraid.

Oh gods! The first night of their bonding. She had probably thought this relationship was going to be exactly like her relationship with the Dursleys. All at once, the months of her fear, shying away from him and stuttering apologies, made sense.

Harry hadn’t overreacted that first night, in fact, her arm probably had been more badly injured than she had let on and she said nothing because he had behaved in precisely the same manner as those abhorrent muggles and in doing so, he had given her every reason to believe that he wouldn’t care that she had been hurt.

All the odd things she had done; waiting for his permission before eating in those early days, acting startled at any display of affection, following orders without the typical Potter defiance… It was as if Severus understanding of the world had come crashing down around him, Harry bearing the brunt of the shrapnel.

He felt nauseated with the weight of the truth.

What frightened Severus the most was Harry’s acceptance of the Dursley's words as if she truly believed them.  
Severus had done nothing but reinforce those beliefs through his cutting words.

“Why did you tell no one of the abuse?” Severus was shocked at how horse his own voice was.  
Harry’s face remained expressionless, the veritaserum was still active then.

“The abuse.” She repeated slowly as if trying to make sense of the word.

“What abuse?” she questioned.  
“The way the Dursleys treated you Harry.” Snape tried to explain, his go-to impatience at Harry’s ignorance, forgotten.

“I wasn’t abused.” Harry said simply.

Severus faltered.

“It’s not abuse if you deserve it; it’s punishment.” Her tone never changed and her expression deadpanned.

Snape clenched his fists and attempted to inject calm into his words. Too much damage had been done already.

“Why do you deserve – punishment?” Severus’ voice wavered uncharacteristically.

She looked startled, even through the veritaserum, as if the answer were obvious “I’m a freak and a burden.” She said. “I’m disobedient and deceitful and arrogant. I’ve taken so much when I never deserved it and I’ve given so little in return. I-”

“That isn’t true.” Severus interrupted hoarsely. He couldn’t hear more of this from her mouth. “Why on earth would you believe these things?”

“Everyone I have ever lived with, agrees that it’s true.” 

The people she had lived with.

Severus mind processed this sluggishly. The Dursleys, and him. He had said the same things to Harry numerous times.

He had never called her a freak but he’d thrown every other insult in her face.

“Why did you keep the ‘punishment’ a secret?” Snape amended.

“They couldn’t know how weak I am. They think I’m their saviour.” She said evenly.  
Such a terrible burden for one so young.

“And no one must know the reasons behind the punishments.” She looked queasy with fear at the mere thought.

The reasons - Snape thought bitterly. They were all lies.  
“Besides, Dumbledore knows.”   
Snape stared at her. That couldn’t possibly be true but veritaserum doesn’t lie, at the very least, Harry believed it was true which was almost worse than the thought of Dumbledore actually knowing.

“What?” He said sharply.

“My letter. It was addressed to my cupboard. And in my first year, I asked if I could stay at Hogwarts and he said that he knew they didn’t treat me well but that it was of ‘crucial importance’ that I stay with my relatives.” Harry explained.

“The wards are more important. I have to stay alive so I can defeat Him and the wards keep me alive.” She said simply.

“Harry, the letters are automatically addressed, Dumbledore wouldn’t have known about your – sleeping arrangements.” Snape knelt in front of her. “And Dumbledore may have assumed their neglect but not this abuse. The wards would never take precedence over your safety. If Dumbledore had known, you would never have gone back.”

Silence stretched between them and Harry’s features contorted. “No.” Harry said softly “no, no, No, NO!” She shrieked. The effects of the potion must be wearing off. “I didn’t stay for you to tell me that it wasn’t necessary.” She shouted, trying to yank her arms free of the ropes that Snape had conjured for her questioning.

He banished the ties with a flick of his wand, feeling ill all over again.

She pulled her knees onto the chair, wrapping her arms around them. 

“Take it back.” She ordered. “It’s not true.” A sob escaped her. “Say it isn’t true.” She begged.

 

This was definitely worse than Albus knowing.

“Harry, you didn’t deserve what they did.” Snape spoke gently. “Not even if you had burnt that infernal house to the ground. Nothing could warrant the abuse they subjected you to.”

Harry looked disbelieving; her lips pursed and her jaw clenched.

“It was abuse Harry, no child deserves punishments like that.”

“You don’t know what I’ve done.” Her voice quavered.

“I don’t care what you’ve done, you don’t deserve what they did.”

She swiped viciously at her eyes. If only he knew what a freak she really was.

“You aren’t arrogant, or deceitful.” Snape started.

“You don’t get to change your mind.” She shouted, her chest heaving. “You force me to tell the truth and then you lie.”

“It’s not a lie Harry.” Snape said tiredly. “I was wrong. I was so terribly wrong.”

“No. You can’t. I don’t want your pity.” She jumped out of the chair and backed away from Snape, her eyes dark and haunted with betrayal.

Of course, that was how she would view his actions, but it wasn’t pity, not really. It was anger at the Dursleys and at himself and regret at how negligent he had been in his role as a teacher and as her bondmate.

“This isn’t pity, it’s the truth. Harry, you have to understand.” Snape said desperately. “I saw Po- I saw your father for far too long because that’s all I wanted to see. Harry, I-“

“And now all you see is weakness? Is that it, Professor?” she threw his title in his face and he winced.

“Or better yet, you see my mother because no one EVER sees me!”

“I do.” Severus said quietly. “I see you Harry.”

“The Dursleys saw me better than anyone ever will.” Harry was breathing heavily.

“The Dursley’s lied brilliantly.” Severus countered.

“And you did to? Is that it?” she shook with anger and humiliation and hurt.

“No, I merely saw what I wished to see.” Severus repeated.

Harry slid to the ground with her back to the wall, her arms held above her head as if that could somehow shelter her from the hurt. The sobs came anyway.

She wept bitterly and Snape hesitated, unsure of whether he should offer her comfort.

He crossed their chambers in long strides and sat next to Harry, pulling her into his arms. She needed to know that she deserved this, Merlin knew how long comfort had been denied. 

Every time he had denied her affection, he had reinforced the lie that Harry didn’t deserve love.

She pulled away from his touch, punching Snapes chest in anger, Severus wasn’t overly certain where the anger was directed.  
The hits grew gradually feebler until they ceased entirely and Harry buried her face in his shirt and bunched the material of the shirt in her fists.  
Snape rocked her backwards and forwards, like a child and pressed a kiss into her hair but no number of kisses could fix this.  
Severus knew he’d have to work harder than he ever had in his life to repair this damage.

It was damage that the Dursleys and he had inflicted through their actions, and the damage the rest of the wizarding world had caused in their blind ignorance. 

She had hidden the physical signs perfectly but the rest of the signs had been plain to see.

The wizarding world had failed to save their saviour.

He glanced at the top of Harry’s head over his hooked nose and realised something. His finite hadn’t worked. 

Harry could hide the signs of her abuse with seemingly impenetrable glamours.

How strong did Harry’s magic have to be to be able to resist his finite incantatum?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you that avoided the memories, here's what happened:
> 
> Snape saw memories from Harry's toddler years until current day. He saw both the Dursley's interactions with Harry and his own with her, which would obviously be quite distressing, considering the years he spent tormenting her.
> 
> Let me know what you think!


	17. False hearts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry! You probably all hate me, but to be fair, I've written out the next few so they just need a little editing and new posts should be up soon.
> 
> Anyway, on with the fic!

He knew. After all the years of hiding her dreadful secret, Severus Snape knew.

Harry would have given anything in that moment to make Snape forget. What if he told the others?

She couldn’t let him. She had to make him keep her secret, no matter what it cost her.

Harry lifted her tear streaked face from his chest, fumbling her wand, the single word that would be her salvation on her lips; Obliviate.

But her wand was out of her hand before she could utter the first syllable.

“No Harry.” Severus’ voice was firm, but gentle.

“It’s too late. You can make me forget your memories but it’s been more than twelve hours since I saw what I saw last night. You can’t make me forget that without removing every memory I have, and I’ll ask the same questions again. I’ll find out again.”

“Please sir, you can’t tell anyone.” Harry’s voice broke. “I’ll do anything sir.”   
Severus’s face contorted “I do not want anything that you will not willingly give, but please, don’t call me sir.”

Harry’s heart thumped. He didn’t want anything from her, so she had no bargaining chip, none that she would ever have intended to use. She swallowed thickly, steeling herself to speak the words that went against so much of what she believed in.

“I’ll out you if I have to. I’ll out you as a Death Eater.” She whispered, as if by saying it softly enough, she could pretend she had never said the words at all.

Something wholly unrecognisable on Snape’s face, shone back at her through sad eyes.

“It was never my intention to tell anyone of your secret, not until you were ready.”

XXX

It wasn’t until Severus spoke those words that he knew that they were true.

He could feel her fear thrumming through him. Not even in his most selfish moment, would he have been able to bring himself to out her.

He felt no anger at her actions, they were so unlike her that he knew only her dreadful fear could have driven her to enact them.

He watched the disbelief and relief wash a little of the fear of her features, and felt the change mirrored in his own emotions.

Severus faltered. He was feeling her emotions.

At first, he had not recognised this to be unusual, for he had spent so much time searching through her memories and that had only been a short time ago. Feeling emotions in memories was normal, but he shouldn’t be able to feel them now.

And that was when it dawned on him.

“Harry?” Her eyes met his, wide and fearful. “Harry, can you still feel my magic?” he could not help the excitement that infected his voice at those words.

Harry frowned in confusion, sitting completely still, and then, very slowly, she nodded. 

“The bond, Harry! This is what we wanted. This is what we’ve been working towards. Our powers, they’re starting to cross.”

Harry seized at the new topic like a drowning man for a life boat.

“You can feel mine too?”

Severus nodded, standing and pulling Harry to her feet before thrusting her wand back into her hand.

“Try a spell. Your magic should be stronger.”

Harry turned to the grate, with its low burning flames and cast an Incendio. Life was breathed into the fire, with a forceful, roaring blast, the flames dancing joyously higher, spreading a wave of almost unbearable heat, rippling outward to the surrounding room. White flames licked at the stone walls surrounding the grate, leaving any stone they touched blackened and, with a sinister hiss, the wood disintegrated into ash, the fire dying with the destruction of its own source of fuel. The fireplace was left blackened and charred, not even the barest remnants of the wood remained, and the metal grate was nothing more than a pool of molten liquid.

Harry turned her fearful gaze on Severus, backing away.

“I didn’t mean-” She tried to apologise, but Severus’ face, that had split into a wide grin, halted her.   
Severus was laughing, a deep-bellied laugh and he crossed the room, pulling Harry into a bone-crushing hug.

He held Harry, encircled in his arms, her head tucked under his chin.  
“We can start teaching you magic.” He mumbled into her hair, and then, holding her at arm’s length so he could look at her, ignoring her look of indignation that clearly said: “I’ve already been taught magic”, and added “But first, we’ll need a place to practice.”

He turned to look speculatively at the place that now only barely resembled a fireplace.

“I’d rather like to keep our chambers intact.”

“Si-Severus?” Harry pulled Severus from his reverie in a timid voice. “You aren’t angry anymore, are you?” The steadiness in her voice sounded forced and Severus’ brow furrowed.

“Angry, Harry?”

She blushed scarlet, playing with her hands and worrying her lip with her teeth.

“It’s only, uhh, you slept in the b-bed last night -” She was tugging so hard at the fingers of her left hand that Snape wouldn’t be surprised if she tugged them clean off. “- so I, uhh, thought that maybe you weren’t angry anymore.”

She looked up at Severus inquisitively, whose mouth was open in unvoiced shock, so she hurriedly continued. “I thought maybe because you weren’t ignoring me anymore, that maybe you would – maybe you had forgiven me.”

Severus stood frozen as, slowly, his tangled knot of confusion undid itself. She thought his distant behaviour had been a punishment for her bout of accidental magic.  
“I was protecting you, not punishing you.” He said slowly. Feeling her stab of disbelief, he knew he needed to say more.

“I hurt you Harry, not the other way around. I thought by sleeping on the couch, you would feel safer in the bed. I thought by distancing myself, you wouldn’t feel like you had to constantly guard yourself against me.” He spoke carefully, using Harry’s shifting emotions as a guide for what to say. 

“Harry, you believe me, don’t you?” She nodded, but Snape still felt an undercurrent of her disbelief.

“Harry, if you can feel my magic, then you can feel my emotions too, can’t you?”

“I d-don’t know.” She said hesitantly. “I don’t think so.”

“You have to know I’m telling the truth.” Severus pleaded. “You do know, don’t you?”

Harry stood frozen, staring at Severus but her silence was answer enough for him.

Severus closed his eyes, pushing cold fingers against his temples, thinking hard.  
His hands fell away, his eyes widening with dawning comprehension. 

Harry watched on in confusion as he closed his eyes with renewed determination, a look of total concentration crossing his features. Severus Snape willingly did something that he hadn’t in almost two decades; he stopped occluding.

He repeated his words of moments before, allowing his emotions to filter into her own, and Harry squeezed her eyes shut, tears trickling down her cheeks.

“I regret ignoring you. Harry, I am so sorry.” She nodded again, and this time Snape was certain she believed him. 

“And if I did it again? If I pushed you away again? What would you do then?” Her voice wavered slightly. He didn’t have to look to her emotions to know that she was nervous; he could hear it in her voice and see it in her tear-streaked face.

“You won’t have to, because I will never push you that far again.” And then, to assuage the remnants of her fear he said: “but if you do anything that you believe has angered me, we can talk about it. I know I haven’t been reasonable in the past, but I think I am a reasoning, reasonable man. I do not intend to punish you. We are both adults, and we will deal with conflicts as adults. I may be older, but I am not your superior. We are partners, equals, and I apologise for ever allowing you to believe differently.”

Harry nodded, the tense lines of her body slackening infinitesimally. Snape had injected sincerity into his words and he knew she had felt it.  
“I would hope that you would do the same Harry. If I have angered you or hurt you, you will tell me? Won’t you?”  
Harry looked back up again, tension returning to her shoulders, and she stared in silence.  
“Harry?” Severus prompted.

XXX

“You-” her voice came out strangled, so she cleared her throat and started again. “You want me to tell you if you’ve hurt me?”

She had voiced her disagreements before, but it had been rare. Admitting to feeling hurt, physically or emotionally however, went against every lesson the Dursley’s had beaten into her. Voicing every disagreement felt dangerous to her. The notion that he desired her honesty was unbelievable. Was he testing her? She probed at the connection she had to his feelings and saw that he, at the very least, believed his own words. He believed that he wouldn’t be angered if she expressed that she had been hurt by him.

“Yes.” He nodded emphatically. “I want to know so that I can fix my mistakes.”

Fix himself. Fix himself on account of her. She, who shouldn’t have the right to hold sway in anyone’s life, because she was a worthless freak, was being given power over Severus Snape. 

No. She mustn’t think like that. He shouldn’t know how she felt about herself because then he would start to ask questions, and she couldn’t afford that. He knew too much already.

She turned her thoughts to their earlier conversation. 

“I think I know a place where we could practice magic.” She forced a smile onto her face.

XXX 

Harry had flicked through emotions in such rapid succession that Snape could barely keep up. He watched as her face assumed the expression of a smile, a smile that hours before, he would have believed to be genuine – her emotions said otherwise.

He had always thought that Harry was an open book. Her face was a stage and her emotions danced across it; an open display for any audience, but what he hadn’t realised was quite how good of an actress she was.

His act had always been to remain expressionless, and anyone who showed their emotions was, in his mind, a bad actor; a bad liar.

Never would he have imagined Harry’s act to be a conscious choice which emotions she showed. Her face may be a stage, but every actor was carefully selected, each played their part well, and Severus Snape had never been any the wiser.

She was a Slytherin parading as a Gryffindor – wearing a false heart on her sleeve - and he, as he’d always done when it came to Harry Potter, only ever saw what he wanted to see; the Gryffindor.   
She wanted to hide, he could feel that desire; perhaps he could take pity on her and allow her escape from the inquisition. She’d been through enough today. He still had many questions but they could wait.

His expression remained perfectly schooled, and his shield went up again. “Oh, really? And where would that be?”

Harry breathed a quiet sigh of relief and spoke. “I can’t say now, I have to ask Dray first.” A genuine smile graced her lips at the mention of that name and Severus looked on in curiosity. 

Harry looked longingly towards the portrait hole and Severus nodded wearily, giving her permission to leave.

Harry bounded out the portrait hole, not sparing a backward glance at Severus in her excitement at her premature escape.

The portrait swung shut and, unbeknownst to Harry, behind Salazars portrait, Severus fell to the floor - clutching his left arm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh no! Do I spy a cliffie? 
> 
> Okay, so I'm itching to know... Who are you gunning for?  
> Snape/Dray/both/neither/don't care?  
> This will likely not affect the fic (that already has a whole diary-full of planning) but I would be interested to know because I've received death threats if it's Dray and death threats if it's Sev and, as yet, I don't know where the majority of axe-murderers stand.
> 
> Much love,  
> LRW


	18. Presents and punishments

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've replied to many of you, so read this note carefully. ;)  
> (sorry about the length) 
> 
> I was sad to note that Awo (AO3), will be leaving the fic because she believes it cant be a snarry. Please don't be quick to jump ship, the truth may surprise you. ;)
> 
> Delizabeth (AO3) Your comment on 16 was what spurred me to post 17, so everyone owes you a thanks ;). As for your comment on 17, I love the dobby quote but you have successfully turned me into an axe-murderer with your suggestion of writing two endings. 
> 
> Sakura Liesel (ff.net) presented a rather impassioned diatribe against Severus Snape that made me laugh. She is far behind the rest of you in what she's read so it was wonderfully out of context when I first started reading it. I hope Snape can redeem himself in your eyes, but yes, he is a royal prat.
> 
> Fandoms librarian: Thanks for your lovely comment. I quite deeply regret starting this fic where Harry is 15. I hope you won't hate me for the underage intimacy that has happened thus far, or in the future. For those of you that have been upset by this, I am deeply sorry. 
> 
> Adora Snape (AO3): you said you have been with me since chapter 3, but considering I posted all three chapters at once on AO3, you have been with me since the beginning. I wanted to express my gratitude. You have left some of the loveliest comments and they are much appreciated. 
> 
> xxBlackMaraihxx: Welcome to the dark side ;) And I was seriously impressed that you read this all in an hour!
> 
>  
> 
> Aaand the polls are in.  
> Okay, so I've looked on both sites and gone into earlier comments. Please remember that this will have little effect on the fic.
> 
> The votes stand thus:  
> Snarry - 12  
> Don't care - 2  
> Drarry- 1  
> Both - 0  
> Neither - 0 
> 
> I was surprised to find this. I love Snarry. Poor Sarwolf (my Beta) has had to suffer many tearful voice notes from me about my love for Snarry. It is definitely my OTP (mostly when they are both blokes) but this ship receives wide hatred, even from Sarwolf, so I was surprised at the mass of support.

“Dray! Wait up!” Harry hurried after Malfoy, her robes billowing behind her.  
Dray slowed, turning to beam at an out-of-breath Harry.   
“Harry!” she exclaimed. “Where were you yesterday?” Dray asked, and if Harry wasn’t very much mistaken, she sounded slightly hurt.

“I was in the infirmary. I had a feinting spell, and Pomfrey wanted to keep me for observation.” She lied smoothly.

Concern for Harry was plain in Malfoys features. Apparently realising that this was not a topic Harry wished to discuss, and ever the one to obey the rules of social propriety, Dray changed the topic.

“So, how was Hogsmead?” she waggled her eyebrows suggestively. Dray saw Harry’s face crumple for the barest of moments, but then she was smiling winningly, and Dray wasn’t certain that she had seen what she thought she’d seen at all. 

“It was fun. I have new clothes now.” Harry lifted her arms and twirled slowly so that Draco could better appreciate her Slytherin-green robes. “Whad’ya think?”  
“Definitely better that that ghastly red you insist on wearing. It clashes horribly with your hair.” Dray teased. “Did Sev pick it out?” She asked, more serious now.

Harry nodded, ignoring the dig at her Gryffindor uniform. “He said it brought out the green in my eyes or something, which doesn’t make much sense really. My eyes are brown.” Harry knew she was rambling and shut her mouth, her eyes darting towards the ground. A blush rose in her cheeks at the smile curling Malfoy’s lips.  
Dray stepped forward, gently removing the glasses from Harry’s face before staring intently into Harry’s eyes. Harry’s blush deepened, her heartrate speeding up and her eyes staring at a spot just past Dray’s head.

“He’s right you know.” Silver eyes darted between Harry’s own. “There’s definitely some green.” Draco’s breath was warming Harry’s face with her words.  
Harry wasn’t breathing at all.  
The seconds dragged themselves outward, spanning what felt like an eternity to Harry, but then Dray stepped back, and air whooshed into Harry’s lungs, her eyes blinking rapidly. Dray’s mouth was moving but Harry’s brain was working sluggishly, and the sounds had little meaning. 

“Harry?” Dray repeated, holding out the glasses. “Come on.”  
Harry shook her head like a dog trying to clear its fur of water. She grabbed her glasses, shoved them onto her face and followed Dray out of the castle. 

“Where are you taking me?” she asked curiously. 

“You really weren’t listening, were you?” Dray sighed in exasperation. “I fancied a walk by the lake.”

“Oh, right.” Harry smiled at her sheepishly.

Malfoys voice lowered to a whisper as they neared the lake. “I’m actually trying to avoid Zabini. He’s been pestering me.”

Harry’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t like him.” She said darkly. 

“No, me neither. He can be a right menace when he wants to be.”

“And a repulsive prat even when he doesn’t intend to be.” Harry added. Malfoy snickered, bashing her shoulder playfully into Harry’s.

“Not one to mince your words, are you?” Dray snorted. Harry thought that wasn’t the most accurate of assessments, but then again, she spoke more freely with Malfoy than she ever had with her housemates, so she smiled her ascent, 

Dray melted the snow in a small, sunlit area by the lake and cast a warming charm over the area before sitting down, with a sprawling grace that only a Malfoy could achieve. It was an act that Harry had once found irritating in the extreme, but now her lips curved into a half smile that she aimed anywhere but at Dray; now the act was endearing.

Most students were indoors to avoid the cold, but a little way off, the Weasley twins were having a snowball fight against Ginny and Neville and there were small collections of students milling about elsewhere,

Harry tugged up a dying collection of grass, its roots coming up with it. She listened absentmindedly, as she methodically ripped the clump to shreds.

Malfoy was boasting about the collection of Dr Filibusters fabulous fireworks that she had managed to sneak into the castle yesterday morning when Harry interrupted her.

“Dray, can I show Sev the Room of Requirement?” she asked hesitantly, halting her decimation of the already dead grass. 

Malfoys head shot up, pale eyebrow arching in surprise. “What for?” she asked edgily.

Harry gave a particularly vicious rip of the grass in her hands. “He wants to practice pretty destructive spells and he doesn’t want to destroy his rooms.” She dropped the shreds and dusted off her hands on her lap. There, that was mostly the truth. 

Dray stared at Harry for a full three seconds and then said “Okay.”

“I’ll make it up to you, I swear.” Harry said earnestly, looking at Dray with wide, pleading eyes.

“Oh?” a silver white eyebrow quirked. “You gonna kill Zabini for me?”

Harry looked across the lake speculatively, “That’s actually not a terrible idea.”

Dray looked scandalised. “Some Gryffindor you are.”

“You’d be surprised.” Harry smirked, rolling her wand deftly between her fingertips, the end emitting blue sparks. “Speaking of surprises; do you want yours now?”

Harry watched Dray wage an internal war against her excitement, and lose.

“Maybe.” She looked pained. “Fine. Yes, I want it.”

“You’re going to have to try harder than that.” Harry said imperiously, staring haughtily down her nose at Dray. 

“Pretty please, darling Harry, may I have my surprise.” Dray asked, batting long, pale eyelashes in Harry’s direction.

Harry’s face burnt uncomfortably. It was probably just the cold she told herself.   
A sly smile curled her lips. 

“Come on then. Oh, and you should probably bring your broom.”

XXX

After summoning their brooms, Dray bounded after Harry, trying and failing to control her skip of excitement. The skip became gradually more uncertain, and when Harry announced that they had arrived, Dray looked around dejectedly at Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom. 

“It’s a lovely haunted bathroom Harry, but this isn’t exactly the ideal place to fly.” Malfoy said tactfully, if a bit disappointedly.

Harry, who was ignoring her, was already tracing her fingers over the small engraving of the snake carved into the sinks faucet.

Hisses issued from her lips and Dray watched on in confused fascination as Harry stepped, back and the basins rearranged themselves, sliding away from each other with a grating roar that echoed around the tiled walls, and then gradually sunk, to be covered by metal grates, revealing a hole, large enough to fit a person or more. 

“Harry.” Dray breathed. “Is this what I think it is?” Dray’s silver-grey eyes were wide.  
Harry nodded smugly. “I haven’t been down here since the basilisk.”

“So there is a basilisk?” Dray said excitedly.  
“Was.” Harry corrected. 

“You killed a basilisk in your second year?” Dray asked in disbelief. 

“Do you want to see Salazar’s chamber or not?” Harry asked, already mounting her broom.

“Definitely.” Dray replied eagerly, following on her broom after Harry as she nosedived into the entrance to the chamber of secrets.

XXX

Severus strode quickly through the grounds, donning the Death Eater mask and hooded robes as he went.

Voldemort had summoned him for the first time in almost half a year. There had to be a justification.

His fear was a coiled weight in his stomach. For the first time in a long time, there was more than only his own life at stake; he had placed Harry’s life in jeopardy the moment he consented to the bond.

The pain in his arm built with the unavoidable, insistent command of the summons as he neared the perimeter of the wards. 

As he crossed the boundary, he felt himself pulled, against his will, into dis-apparition. 

The suffocating squeeze of the apparition felt like it never left him, as he crossed the floor of an unfamiliar, mostly empty room and knelt before the Dark Lord, his heart constricted with fear at his master’s unexpected summons.

“Severusss,” the Dark Lord spoke in a sibilant whisper, “my slippery friend. Tell me, what has changed?” he asked conversationally. The danger was not in his voice, it was in his scarlet eyes.  
Severus mind raced. He had done many things since they last had met but what had he done before his summons? 

Their powers had started to cross. Had his Lord sensed the change in his magic? 

“My Lord?” His voice was steady as ever as he feigned ignorance, his head half-bowed as he knelt before his master.

“Your mind Severus; why have you closed it to me?” his voice was dangerously calm.  
Severus kept his face closed against his sense of burgeoning understanding; he had been summoned because he had stopped occluding. 

Voldemort had a closer link to his mind than any other through the dark mark, Severus had always known that. What he hadn’t realised was how easy it would be for his Master to sense that he had stopped occluding. He had never felt the need - or the stupidity - to test that particular theory. 

“My mind is as open as it has always been, My Lord.” His deep voice, smooth. Technically, that wasn’t a lie. “It is merely closed against Dumbledore.”

Red eyes narrowed suspiciously, as they bored into black. 

Snape felt the familiar force of his master’s intrusion into his mind, and allowed seemingly significant memories to be pulled to the forefront of his mind; those memories constructed to aid order’s cause. 

One of the Dark Lord’s greatest flaws was his arrogant belief in his own magical prowess. He was too conceited to believe that someone could defend against his mental attacks and so, as it had always been, Voldemort drew out of Snape’s mind with a look of cool satisfaction in his red eyes.

Snape allowed himself a small exhale, as he bowed his head once more. Voldemort wasn’t done. No meeting with Voldemort ended without pain. 

With a bored flick of his wand, Snape was sent sprawling onto his back. Another flick and his back arched off the ground as the unbearable pain of the cruciatus forced his muscles into a spasm. 

He allowed himself to cry out because staying silent, he had learnt, only made the torture last longer. Voldemort loved to watch men break.

XXX

The chamber was cavernously large and every step reverberated around Harry and Dray. Bones of small creatures still scattered the floor and Dray shivered involuntarily.

The pair had long since abandoned the use of their brooms. 

They walked in silence through the small passageways, bent almost double in some places because of the low ceiling. 

Dray was grateful that Harry walked in front of her but she kept glancing nervously over her shoulder. She was cripplingly afraid of the dark and her lit wand had a very narrow radius of light. 

She was enjoying the view of Harry in her Slytherin green robes. Her fiery red hair that reached her lower back, swayed mesmerizingly as she walked, and Dray fixated on that image to distract herself.  
Her mind wandered back to the lake. She had felt an unwelcome stab of jealousy when Harry had asked if she could share with Snape what Draco had come to believe was ‘their place’. But that was absurd, wasn’t it? Harry was bonded to Snape, of course she would want to share things with him; Dray just wished it hadn’t been /their/ room.

Harry had said she would make it up to her and Dray had battled between the conflicting emotions of bitterness and excitement. Excitement had won out and her stomach had flip-flopped pleasurably at the thought of a present. After all, she really had no right to be jealous, she told herself, and this surprise really had been a great one. 

This was Slytherin’s chamber, she told herself. This was a treasure within Hogwarts that not even her father had experienced. 

Only her fear had dampened her giddy excitement at this discovery.  
Harry had faltered, and Dray almost bumped into her, so lost as she was in her own thoughts. 

Dray, an admonishment on her lips, stilled at the sight before her.

Harry was clutching her forehead, her eyes screwed shut against obvious agony.

“Harry?” she said in alarm. “Harry, are you okay? Harry, what’s happening?”

Her words of concern went unheard. Harry sunk to her knees, grunting in pain and Draco’s heart leapt into her mouth. 

“Severus!” Harry shrieked, her eyes still closed, her nails biting into her scalp.

“No, Harry, it’s me, Dray.” 

“Don’t. No. Please, don’t hurt him!” Harry pleaded.

“Hurt him? Hurt who? Harry what are you on about?” Dray’s heart was pounding.  
Harry’s eyes opened and immediately, she scrambled to her feet. 

“He has Severus!” her voice was panicked “He’s torturing Severus. We have to go help him.” Harry was already pushing past her, running back down through the maze of underground tunnels.

Dray didn’t have to ask who “he” was and she followed Harry, moving as quickly as she could.  
“Harry, we can’t leave Hogwarts.” Dray tried to reason with the brazen Gryffindor. “We have to get help.”

“There’s no time.” Came Harry’s anguished, out of breath reply. “We have to move faster.  
They were nearing the exit and, with relief, Dray saw the first signs of Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom, a sphere of light above them. The pair mounted their brooms, rising with an adrenalin fuelled urgency, out of the chamber of secrets, Harry not sparing a glance for the chamber that was already sealing itself over.

The corridors were empty. Dray did not know whether to be grateful because it meant they did not have to dismount their brooms or frustrated because there was no one, not even a professor there to help them. 

She was flying at Harry’s side now. “Do you know where they are?” She asked urgently, her cool head prevailing, already thinking out a plan.

Harry spoke without thought “The bond will take me to him. I can feel it. I just have to get past the wards.” Dray saw the determined look in Harry’s eyes.   
If the bond could force apparition, it must be far more powerful than Dray previously thought.

The double doors of the great hall were mercifully open and the Slytherin and Gryffindor passed unimpeded onto the grounds of Hogwarts.  
They passed over the lake and, had Dray not felt such terror for the life of her godfather, she would have felt exhilarated. 

They had reached the boundary line of the wards when Harry dismounted.  
She moved forward with the intent to pass through and came up against an invisible barrier. 

“No!” she called out into the night. “We have to leave, we have to help him.” Her voice shook with ill-concealed fear.   
Dray was about to suggest that they use the flu in Severus chambers to when the “crack” of apparition sounded from nearby. 

Harry sprinted in the direction of the sound. “Severus?”  
Please let it be Severus, Dray implored, as she followed after Harry.

Moments later, a cloaked figure stumbled through the tree line of the Forbidden Forest, wearing the mask of a Deatheater.  
“Severus?” Harry gasped out the question, nearing the man without the caution that the situation warranted, as far as Draco was concerned. The Gryffindor’s hands made to remove the mask from his face. 

XXX

Harry’s breath was caught in her throat as she peeled back the mask. 

It was him, she exhaled, her eyes closing for the barest of moments. He was alive, and Harry’s relief was overwhelming.   
Then her concern returned, her eyes opening. Her hands were on his face, and then his chest and back at his face again, her eyes tracking over his figure in rapid movements, taking in his bloodied haggard face and his tattered robes.

“We should take him back to the castle.” Dray’s gentle voice spoke from behind Harry, her hand on Harry’s shoulder. Severus head jerked up in shock, his eyes seeking out his goddaughter, his gaze unfocused.

Harry nodded in agreement. “Help me?” she asked, and in a moment, Dray was at Severus’ other side, supporting half of his weight. Dray had the intuition to cast a feather-light charm, but it had little effect on lightening the weight of a grown man. Harry didn’t dare cast the spell herself; her magic was too unpredictable. 

The three made the long arduous journey through the dark, up to the castle, Severus slipping in and out of consciousness.

Once they had reached the entrance hall, Severus spoke. “Not the infirmary” was the firm instruction spoken in a too tired voice. 

With an uncertain look at each other, Harry and Dray altered their course, descending towards the dungeons.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to offload myself on all of you. I hope you won't mind. Sorry if you thought this was chapter content.
> 
> You can direct your thanks for the upsurge in postings to the striking of all South African Universities. We have been closed for almost two weeks due to violent protests.
> 
> The students want free tertiary education which is unfortunately impossible in South Africa's political and financial climate. 
> 
> I think its terrible that so many hundreds of students who have the marks to get in, but lack the funds to attend, don't receive tertiary education.  
> In SA, the expectation after matric is that you get a university degree (I'm told it is different elsewhere and that most get other forms of tertiary education.) So you can understand the forgotten students desperation.
> 
> However, I do not think it right that students become as violent as they have. We were dragged out of our lecture halls because the students wanted to shut down the universities as part of their protest action.  
> They said our faculty (the medical faculty) is the centre of white supremacy and that they intended to take us down, and proceeded to lead all white students off of campus. Even those of us who support their cause (like myself) were told that they "did not want [our] white faces diluting [their] cause." 
> 
> There are many black students within the faculty, however the ratio of black to white students is not reflective of the countries population. I understand their argument that this is a predominantly white faculty however, it has little to do with supremacy or racism from the universities application board. The fact that few med students are black is due to the fact that very few apply, and actuality, there is a system (BEE - Black economic empowerment) that selects black students over white students, even if they have received lower marks.
> 
> This is completely fair, as Apartheid (a system that enforced the segregation of black and white people) offered far lower levels of education to those of colour and economically crippled them, and so, in the efforts of equality, they are given an equaliser, much like an amputee being given a prosthetic. 
> 
> Since that day (last week Tuesday) our universities have been closed as they cannot guarantee the safety of their students. There have been attacks, both from police on students and students on police, where people have thrown stones, shot stun grenades and tear gas. There have also been arson attacks from students where university buildings have been burnt, and even some petrol bombs have been found. 
> 
> Needless to say, these are stressful times for all involved. But hey, at least you're getting more chapters out of me. 
> 
> Much love,  
> LRW


	19. Assuage and abate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FINALLY!  
> Alright, that took me eons. I just finished editing the whole fic, got past my writers block, and wrote a whole lot more.  
> I would suggest starting from scratch as A LOT has been added/changed.  
> Hopefully, ill be updating weekly from now on, as i have a ton of chapters stored up. This is a short one so I'll probably post another midweek. 
> 
> I hope you are all well! 
> 
> (I haven't even begun to post the edited chapters on FF.net. Wish me luck.)

Severus refused to allow Harry and Dray to summon Dumbledore, and Harry eventually relented. Severus explained what potions he needed, and Harry had to shake him awake once she has collected them from his stores. 

Harry, who waited until Severus fell into a fitful sleep before leaving their room, was unable to control her shaking, but was intent on thanking Dray, and sending her back to her dorm. It was late, and they could both use the sleep. 

Malfoy stood at the entrance to their chambers, exactly where Harry had left her, her face lined with concern. “Harry.” She said, taking an abortive step towards the Gryffindor.

Harry closed her eyes briefly, stifling a sob with her hand over her mouth.  
She barely startled at Dray’s gentle touch, and allowed herself to be pulled into an embrace. “Merlin, Potter. I’m so sorry.”

“He’s your godfather.” Harry half whispered – she did not trust her voice not to break if she spoke any louder. “I’m sorry too.” Her voice was muffled against Dray’s shoulder.

She let a sob escape her, and immediately felt ashamed; wanting to pull from Dray and turn away, but Dray just held her tighter.  
She’s emotionally and physically drained from yesterday and today’s events. Her fear for Severus is simply the bowtruckle that breaks the hippogriffs back, but Dray can’t possibly know that. Having not eaten since the night before, she’s feeling weak too, and that isn’t helping matters.  
She clutched Dray, who was only just shorter than Harry’s glamoured height, and rested her cheek on Drays shoulder, her face turned towards the door. She shook with silent tears, her arms coiling around Drays waist, accepting the offered comfort.

 

Harry doesn’t know how long they stood like that, but eventually Dray left. Harry crawled under the blankets next to Snape, stretching herself along his side, as close as she can get to him without actually touching. She hasn’t felt secure enough in what he will allow, since his imposed distance. And besides, she knows the nerve damage following the cruciatus curse can make touch unbearable, but she doesn’t want to be much further from him. Not so soon after fearing that she might lose him.

Exhaustion is a heavy weight, that draws her seductively downwards into the murky depths of sleep. Her vial of dreamless sleep sitting, unopened on the bedside table.

XXX

Severus wakes, feeling the all too familiar residual ache from the nerve damage caused by the cruciatus. 

He has to take the remaining half of the Nociceptor-restorative potion that sits on his bed side table, so he pushes away his lingering mental and physical exhaustion to reach for the vial. His arm brushes something soft and warm as he twists to reach the vial, and with a comforting jolt to his gut, he realises it’s Harry.

He downs the vial, and takes a swig of pain-relieving draught, the aches pleasantly numbing into obscurity. 

Without thought, he pulls Harry into his arms, her head tucked under his chin. Her breathing that was slow and heavy in sleep, hitches, and her body stiffens. 

“It’s all right. Sleep.” Severus mumble is a low rumble, and the tension strung in Harry’s muscles, slackens, her breathing slowly evening out into the cadence of sleep.

Unbidden, Severus mind drifts to the events of the night before. His mind, once sluggish, wakens to flick through memories he has of Harry, still struggling to reconcile his wilful blindness of all the signs that must have been there. 

Memories that were all now shown in a different light. 

Harry sitting in Dumbledore’s office hopeful at being told that the Dursley’s had disappeared.

Harry not meeting Severus’ gaze in her first year.

Harry startling into terrified wakefulness from her nightmares, at a mere touch from Severus.

It is this mostly unwelcome train of thought, carries him to a memory of Harry, quaking with ill-concealed fear, standing with her shirt off in the centre of their chambers, because Severus had told her to treat him like her Bondmate.  
And hot on the heels of this memory, is the all too sickening thought that perhaps he does not yet know all of the abuse to which Harry was subjected.

His pulse is quickened, his arms tightening around Harry in a parody of protection that had come far too late. His stomach roiled and his mind rebelled at the thought. It’s almost too awful to contemplate. 

Surely, he would have seen an indication in the memories he had pried from her mind if this had happened? If, against her will, someone had - 

And Severus? If he continued to touch her in the manner that he had in the past, if he did as Albus bid, and showed affection, even if only to falsify memories – would Harry think that he too wanted to force her into something she did not want?

He jerked away from Harry as if branded, and sat up with his legs over the side of the bed. He buried his head in his hands. He tried to bring his breathing under control, hating the unfamiliar prickle he felt at the corners of his eyes. 

Severus stood.  
Sleep was no longer a possibility. 

XXX

Harry is standing in a long corridor, tiled in black, her eyes drawn to a door at the far end. She feels inexorably pulled towards it. Her steps are initially halting, but she breaks into a run, her burning curiosity to see what lies on the other side, driving her forwards.  
She nears the door, her arm stretching out in front of her, her fingers only inches away…

And she wakes, sitting up in bed, and panting with frustration burning through her. 

“Harry?” Severus concerned voice calls from a distance away. “Are you alright?” His voice is closer, and moments later he opens the door. 

“Yeah, yeah I am.” Harry responded, slipping out of bed. “It was just a dream.”

“A nightmare?” Severus questioned sharply.

“It was just a dream.” Harry repeats. “Are you alright?”

Severus looks away. “I’ve left breakfast on the table. I have to go. Albus will be expecting me.”  
As he turned to walk away, Harry probed their connection and feels nothing, which means Severus is hiding his emotions. What reason could he possibly have for hiding them? Unless…

Harry’s heart sinks. She doesn’t understand how she feels - all she knows is that the tenuous connection she has started to form with Snape has become somewhat of a crutch, and now it feels to be fraying. Snape is distant and angry, and despite saying Harry is not to blame, he clearly has something to hide, if he is shielding his emotions from the bond. 

No one stays. No one cares. Why should Severus be any different? He has given little to no indication that he cares for her well-being past the obligation of being her bondmate. 

XXX

Severus feels Harry’s hurt as he reaches the door, and turns back. She’s looking down, her shoulders hunched, arms wrapped around herself. He sweeps a hand over his face. How is he so good at royally screwing this up?  
She believes the vitriolic lies she’s been fed by the Dursley. She wholeheartedly believes in her utter lack of worth.

Her crippling insecurity has left her vulnerable. Severus knows this. Logically, he knows that she needs validation, but Severus is far from cuddly, and he has no idea how to fix this. 

“Harry.” He’s in front of her. She curls further in on herself.  
“Look at me.” He thinks of that awful muggle slapping her to the ground for doing exactly that, and holds back a wince of his own. He turns the order into a request. “Harry, please could you look at me?”.  
She turns her face up to his, and the furthest thing from his mind as he meets those eyes, is James Potter.

“The summons was awful.” He says, knowing that the meeting with Voldemort is making him snappy, and wanting to be certain that she does not think that his ire is directed at her. “I feel awful. I have to report to Albus about what happened. I’ll be back though.” She nods, but there is something in the twisted coil of Harry’s reflected emotions that makes him suspect that she does not believe him. 

He weighs up his options and gives in. He pulls her to him, soothing his hand over her back. He does not, however act on the impulse to press a kiss into her hair. Its insufficient, he knows that, but he has to go. He’s waited too long.

XXX

“You were summoned.” Albus says as Severus walks through the door.  
Of course, he would already know. Severus clenches and unclenches his jaw. “Yes.”

“It has been many months, Severus. Do you know of the reasons behind his summons?” Dumbledore steeples his fingers.  
Severus is irrationally glad that the old man has the sense not to offer tea or a lemon drop. 

“I dropped my occlumency shields, and he sensed it.”

Dumbledore gives him an assessing stare, and Severus speaks before his mentor has a chance to ask for an explanation of yesterday’s stunning lapse in judgment. That line of conversation involves secrets that are not his to tell.

“He was alone, in an unfamiliar location. The disapparition felt more long distance than what I would consider usual.” This, of course, piques the headmasters interest, which was Severus’ intention.

“None of our sources within his ranks have been summoned in months.” Dumbledore says calmly, confirming what Severus had already guessed. “I had wondered why he showed no response to your bonding with Harry, but it seems plausible that he does not yet know. Is this something you can confirm, Severus?” 

“I can neither confirm nor deny this.” Severus keeps his voice even. “The Dark Lord asked no questions of the bond. He gave me no information. I saw no one. I received no commands. He questioned me, searched my mind, punished me, and dismissed me.” The one and only reason Severus had not spoken to Albus last night, was because nothing he discovered had been of any import. 

“Is there something else you wish to tell me, my boy?” Dumbledores gaze is piercing.  
The events of the night before last are none of the old man’s concern. Severus is on the precipice of reflexively shaking his head because of this fact, but then hesitates. He had almost forgotten. “Our – powers have started to cross.” Albus has learnt that Severus does not take kindly to having his mind searched, and so, despite the headmaster’s obvious curiosity, Severus’ mind remains unviolated. He tries to gauge Albus for a reaction. The man tilts his head back, a twinkle lighting in those infernally blue eyes, his expression thoughtful. “Ah.” Silence elapses between them. 

“Now that /is/ good news.” He says finally.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lemme know what you think, please!
> 
> (its my 21st birthday tomorrow, if that spurs you on ;P)


	20. Control and losing it

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Controlling emotions  
> Controlling others  
> Controlling magic  
> Controlling reactions  
> Losing control of curiosity  
> Losing control of your words  
> Losing control of yourself  
> ...in that order

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my word!  
> You guys all deserve chocolates. Honestly.  
> I did not expect any response as I had left the fic so long, but so many of you have left comments, and Kudos, and even reread the whole fic (which again, I suggest because MANY changes have been made :P).  
> I feel honored, so here's my thanks in the form of a quick chapter update! 
> 
> Thank you for all your birthday wishes!

Harry has had an odd week. 

Severus has run hot and cold, and Harry can’t decipher his actions. At some points, he is walking on eggshells around her. He keeps moving slowly in a manner that, it is painfully obvious, is aimed at not making her flinch. He’s barely spoken to her, like he has forgotten how, now that he feels he shouldn’t snark. His well-known prickly exterior showing only insofar as his now total inability to socialise with her. At other points, seemingly at random points in the day, to Harry’s utter consternation, he’ll sooth his hand over her back, or pull her into a hug. He even complimented her dicing skills when they made calming draught for Poppy. /Snape/. Compliment /Harry/. Over potions, of all things.  
Harry was fairly certain that was the highest honour of which Severus was capable.  
The back pats were comforting at first, as much as she’d hate to admit it. She didn’t know how to speak to him either, and she was so seldom shown affection, that she felt positively doted on by this upsurge in ‘comfort’. For the first time in her life, however, she was starting to understand why Ron, for instance, got sick of being shown affection by his mother. She doesn’t want it to stop. Not really. She does however want him to stop treating her like something wounded. Severus could always be relied upon to be a snarky git, so this forced persona was irritating in the extreme. It did nothing to abate her sense that to him, this was still an act. 

He still hadn’t let her see his emotions as he had a few nights ago, and it was starting to feel like she had imagined it. She certainly no longer trusted that he gave a damn for her sake. His obvious pretence was eating at her. The only benefit to all of this was that he had not once, since the discovery after the new moon, attempted to question Harry about the Dursleys.

There were also the dreams: since the odd dream about the door at the end of the long, dark, corridor, Harry had opted not to take dreamless sleep for another night, in the hopes that she might again see it, and perhaps, even see past it. 

She had seen the door, and woke again with a pounding heart. When Severus had tried to question her, she had been elusive, and he quickly gave up. If he wanted to be secretive – well she could be too.  
For some reason, she felt the urge to doggedly guard this particular, seemingly insignificant secret about the dream. She told no one, not even Dray, and went back to taking dreamless sleep most nights, to halt any cause Severus might have to question her in the future. 

Then there was her magic. After cracking the stone walls of the charms class with an aguamenti the day after discovering the strengthened bond, she decided it was best not to attempt spells for the time being. If the teachers notice that she is no longer practicing magic, they say nothing.

Ron and Hermione are gigantic flobberworms, as Dray is fond of calling them. They haven’t so much as looked at her since Harry kissed Hermione, and Harry has very nearly convinced herself that she doesn’t care. Nearly.

There are two bright spots in the stormy sky that has become her life. The smaller is that Neville, Ginny and Luna have started speaking to her again. By far, the brightest spot however, is Malfoy.

They sit together in every class they share, Malfoy usually giving an admittedly hilarious running commentary on the goings on, or muttering truly idiotic puns under her breath, or writing them on a spare bit of parchment that she leaves between them. It’s like she has made it her personal mission to lose Gryffindor house points, by making Harry laugh. 

“And there goes that gormless idiot, Thomas, too busy swooning over a clearly disinterested Brown to realise that he’s about to lose his finger to the fanged geranium he’s supposed to be pruning. I suppose no thumb is better than a black thumb.”

Or:  
“Unlike Finnigan, Potter, I don’t need his prodigious skill in pyrotechnics to blow your mind”. This comment was accompanied with much eyebrow wiggling.

Drays ‘humour’ is enough to induce an aneurysm. 

XXX

“Cast again, Harry.” Snape says, standing in the centre of the room Harry had called ‘the room of requirement’. “before you do, I want you to visualise your magic again.”  
Harry’s eyes are closed, a look of intense focus on her face. “Can you see it?” he prompts.  
She nods.

She has previously described it like an undulating body of glowing, blue fluid ‘stuff’, so Severus tailors his description of control. “Good. Now imagine pulling a drop of that magic to the borders of your consciousness, and cast the spell again, utilising only that drop.”

Harry’s magic is unbelievably strong, so at the moment, Severus is trying to teach her control. Sweat is beading on her forehead.  
Wilfully controlling magic to this degree is draining to even the most powerful, so Severus isn’t surprised that it tires her.

Harry’s ‘reducto’ shatters the concrete-like structure the room had provided for practice and Severus feels the draw on his magic, foreign and strangely uncomfortable, making his knees go weak. “Better!” Severus shouts. She still has a long way to go; that was more bucket than drop.

Harry sags, sweat dripping from her forehead, her breathing laboured. She shouldn’t be tiring this quickly. “It’s like I can’t take just a drop. I pull at a bit of it, and more follows. It’s like it’s magnetised, or something.” Harry rakes her fingers through her hair in frustration. Her breathing is heavy with exertion. 

“You don’t eat enough.” He says, and Harry’s eyes dart up to his, her face startled. Severus thinks again that he wants to see how she truly looks, and after days of avoidance, he finally says: “Drop your glamours for me.”  
As he suspected she would, she shakes her head vigorously. “Why?” she demands. “You’ve already seen…” she doesn’t need to say more.

“May I?” Severus asks his wand held aloft. Intent as he was on making Harry feel safe, he had avoided this line of questioning for nearly a week, but he needs to know. She looks at him wearily, but eventually nods her head, looking resigned.

“Finite incantatum!” Nothing, whatsoever, happens. Harry looks as surprised as Severus feels. Her magic has benefited the most, as Dumbledores incantation in the bond named Severus as the primary protector. His magic is used to amplify hers, so that she is better able to protect herself, but his magic has been amplified too, if his casting is any indication. His spell definitely should work. 

The only explanation Severus can think of is that perhaps spellcasting of an offensive nature does not work against each other.

He shakes his head in disbelief, and looks to Harry, intent on making her drop the glamours herself, but his expression softens at what he sees: her eyelids are drooping.  
It’s a school night and she has potions first thing on a Friday. Severus would rather not have his bondmate fall into a vat of shrinking solution tomorrow because she can’t stay awake. 

“Come on.” He says, exasperated as he helps her up. “It’s time for bed.”

XXX

In Friday’s Transfiguration lesson, McGonagall reminds Harry that she has to meet her that evening. By five minutes to seven, Harry is waiting outside her office.

McGonagall calls Harry inside moments later and starts giving her spells to attempt. McGonagall tells her what each spell is supposed to do, and then has her attempt it.

After almost twenty minutes of this, with McGonagall looking increasingly perplexed she says “Miss Potter, I want you to imagine your hair changing colour. I don’t want you to cast a spell, just picture it in your mind.”

Harry frowns, but does as she is told.  
Professor McGonagall makes a sound somewhere between satisfaction and confusion. “I need to do a tad more research, but I should be visiting you and Severus soon with some news.” She’s midway through ushering Harry out of her door when she speaks again “Oh, and dear? You should probably turn your hair back to red. Blue doesn’t suit you.”.  
Harry looks down, startled, and sure enough, despite not having cast a spell, her hair is dead straight, and navy blue.

XXX

McGonagall sits in their chambers by lunch time on Saturday. “The descriptions I gave to you, Miss Potter, before I instructed you to cast, seldom matched the true function of the spell. Yet, despite the sheer impossibility, the spells you cast matched my made-up descriptions, every time.”

Severus narrowed his eyes; that didn’t seem likely.

“Tell me, Miss Potter:” she says curiously, “Were you aware that you are a metamorphmagus?”

Severus stiffened noticeably beside Harry: “That’s… not possible.” He said haltingly.  
“Her parents...” He fell silent. There was no history in the Potter line, and Lily was a muggle-born. Besides, Severus had seen her medical file. What with him being a potions master who provided potions for all the students, and with all of the brat’s visits to the hospital wing, he had looked extensively through her file for potential allergies and so forth, and seen no mention of Metamorphmagi ancestry. Minerva, being an expert in her field should know that, with no genetic link, and no signs of the talent in her infancy, it was not possible for Harry to be a Metamorph.  
Unless… 

Surely not. It was incredibly rare. As far as Severus was aware, there were only a handful of recorded cases. But the evidence was not non-existent in Harry’s case. Possessing the talent of metamorphmagi would certainly explain a lot; like the reason that his Finite Incantatum had not worked whenever he attempted to remove what he thought were glamour charms.

“You believe she’s self-induced?” Severus asked, his face a mask of impassivity. The implications were too profound to be considered here. He needed time to think it through on his own. He didn’t trust that his face would not betray his emotions at this moment, and it was not his secrets at stake.

Minerva’s gaze was hard, and calculating. “I do.”

Harry was looking between the two adults, with the air of an outsider. She had no idea what a “metamorphmagus” was, and certainly had no idea what “self-induced” meant or why it had engendered such a strong response from Professor McGonagall, or her potions master.

Minerva’s steely gaze flitted back to Harry. “You didn’t know then?”

“What’s a metamorphmagus?” Harry asked, truly clueless.

“A person who is able to change their appearance at will.” Severus was the first to respond, although the question had not been directed at him. “Typically, one can only possess this skill if there is a history of it in their family. That is to say, it is supposed to be hereditary.” 

“I got it from my father then?” Harry asked, still confused as to why the two professors were so stone-faced. 

“No Potter has ever possessed the skill.” McGonagall responded. “I spent time with your family when you were an infant. I never once saw you change your appearance.”  
Andromeda had regaled a fascinated Minerva, in the Order meetings, with tales of her sweet toddler, changing her hair to bubble-gum pink, or sprouting a beak and snouts, enough for Minerva to know with certainty that the signs presented early. 

“In rare cases” she went on, “when one finds oneself in a situation where a change in appearance is a necessity, for survival say,” her gaze flickered back towards Severus, gauging his reaction, “they might develop this skill independently. When this happens, they are referred to as ‘self-induced metamorphs’.” 

Harry forced herself to maintain an expression of benign interest. 

“Was there a necessity for you to change your appearance, Miss Potter?” McGonagall asked, her tone one of concern.

“No Professor.” Harry responded, feigning confusion. “I honestly don’t know how this happened. I didn’t even know it had happened.” – that last part, at least, was true

“You are certain?” The transfiguration professor’s assessing gaze focussed on Harry, disquiet etched in the lines of her face.

“The child has given you a response Minerva.” Severus spoke sharply, sensing his bondmate’s building anxiety.

Minerva’s expression was one of startlement, but then she nodded crisply, smoothing her hands down her robes as she stood. She had no intention to outstay her welcome, but she did not believe Potter for a second. The two of them were hiding something, and she intended to find out what it was.

 

XXX

Harry wasn’t meeting Severus’ gaze. She was fidgeting with her hands, hoping that his pronounced caution around her of late will extend to avoiding an inquiry now.

Severus let out a long, suffering sigh. “You know what I am going to ask Harry. We cannot avoid this forever.”

We can try, Harry thought to say, but she doubted Severus would be amused, so she said nothing.

“Harry” his tone is warning, and Harry, finally, looks at him.  
“What will it change? Seeing again, I mean.” She says in a near whisper. 

“Precisely Harry. What will it change? I already know. Why hide how you truly look, when I’ve already seen everything.”

Because you look at me like I’m wounded, Harry thinks, grateful once more that he can read only her emotions, and not her thoughts. 

With her eyes obstinately on Severus, Harry pulls back her disguise.

XXX

Severus watches the change with a sort of horrified fascination. It was easy to forget the details. All too easy to blunt the jagged edges of his recall, and imagine that she was not /as thin/, or /as damaged/ as she truly was.  
The stark evidence of her abuse: the hollowed cheeks, the lustre gone from her hair, the crooked nose and scarred flesh made his heart twist and his insides burn with hatred for those muggles.

Before he could stop himself, the words escaped him; “Gods, you’re so thin.”  
Her skin was discoloured with malnourishment, pale with what must certainly be anaemia. Her muscles, wasted from the summer’s starvation to the point of showing her bones, were only now beginning to bulk up. 

 

Harry ate very little. He’d seen it. He’d watched her for months, in the great hall and in their chambers.  
He had seen how little she ate, but her disguise had assuaged any concerns he may otherwise have felt, for she looked healthy. His mind was already cataloguing the ingredients he would need for nutrient supplement potions. She would also most definitely require appetite enhancers. He understood that she likely couldn’t eat enough to correctly sustain her because prolonged starvation would make strong foods, or a large portion of food nauseating.

XXX

Harry had shrunk at his words, her face burning in shame.  
Still, Severus hid from Harry how he felt, and her mistrust, once a crack, was widening into a chasm, draining away her hope.  
She had begun to notice a pattern in his hot/cold treatment. He showed no affection - only comfort when it was absolutely required. Was she truly so repulsive, now that he had seen the treatment she deserved? Or was it her appearance. Harry held no illusions as to her attractiveness. Aunt Petunia had told her often enough what an ugly little freak she was, for that fact to never be forgotten.

He wasn’t looking at her. From what she could read on his face, he was thinking. Fear was a dark, churning ocean of hopeless thoughts that threatened to engulf her. She was monstrous, and he resented her. He would definitely tell someone. He pitied her. She was dirty, and unwanted, and he was going to find out everything she had done to deserve this.

Panic burgeoned inside of her. She didn’t know how to handle this. No one was ever supposed to know, and this, this pity, this disgust, this sick curiosity, was precisely why. Her chest was heaving. She felt as if her airways were constricted, and she couldn’t suck enough air into her lungs. 

Her limbs tingled, and she felt dizzy and weak. She was going to suffocate. She was sure of it.

She couldn’t breathe, and her chest burned with the pain of it. 

XXX

Severus was on his knees in front of Harry, trying to shake her, to bring her back to awareness. The idiotic child was hypoxic, her lips blue-tinged. He transfigured a summoned glass into a brown paper bag, and held it to her mouth. 

“Breathe, Harry.” He said, his deep baritone soothing. “That’s it, breathe deeply.”  
The bag would help return her carbon dioxide levels to within a normal range, so that her body no longer thought she was taking in too much oxygen, which had caused her airways to constrict in the first place. 

Harry’s breathing returned to normal, and she sagged in a mixture of exhaustion and relief, sucking in grateful lungful’s of air from the bag.  
Severus noted with concern that his sense of her emotions was rapidly diminishing, which meant the bond was weakening. He hadn’t even noticed the onset of the panic attack, until it was already full blown.

He vacillated on the brink of reaching out to her, or leaving her be, as he had over the last week, ever since his own consideration that Harry may have been sexually assaulted.  
He didn’t ask her. His guilt at forcing his way into her memories had made him more intent on allowing Harry privacy.

With a sick, heavy feeing around his midriff, he decided to leave her be, and stood to move away. 

Harry watched him go, her expression shuttered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm doing my best to respond to all your comments. I wish I could give you more of a thank you, but please keep them coming. They bring me so much joy!


	21. Lets compare scars

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay! New chapter updates.   
> By the way, you're all wonderful!

Harry had been pulled into Dray’s orbit, as if the space Dray now occupied in Harry’s life had planetary mass, and Harry was helpless to its gravitational draw. She wouldn’t resist the pull, even if she could.

The second time they return to the Chamber of Secrets, it’s at Dray’s tentative suggestion. This time, they reached the stone antechamber that held the giant statue of Salazars head, from whose mouth, Harry remembers with sickening clarity, the basilisk had sinuously slid, in her second year.

The basilisk corpse is the first thing Harry sees upon entering this antechamber, her heart rate almost doubling, even as she forcibly reminds herself that the great ugly snake is dead. Dray emits a squeak from behind her, and it’s all Harry can do to hold back a laugh. 

“Scared, Malfoy?” she uses Dray’s surname because she knows it irritates her. 

It has the desired effect, and Dray, who was strung tensely with fear, narrows her eyes almost imperceptibly, in what Harry knows to be annoyance; her ire eclipsing her fright. Dray’s eyes move with rapidity, between Harry and the snake, and then she smirked. Here it comes, Harry thought. She almost groaned out loud.

“I’m- I’m petrified!” Dray widened her eyes in mock terror, and placed too much emphasis on the word ‘Petrified.’   
Dray made significant eyes at the snake, as she repeated herself. “/Petrified/, Harry.”

Harry gave Dray an exaggerated eye-roll. 

“Oh, come on.” Dray said, and as Harry is about to tell Dray how not funny she is, Dray says: “Don’t look so /stone-faced/, my sense of humour /rocks/.”  
And, unbidden, a laugh bubbles out of Harry. Dray looks immensely pleased with herself, and Harry sees to correct this, before an already insufferable Dray, gets an even bigger head.

“Yeah, it /rocks/ like a boulder in the great lake, Dray. It sinks to greater depths of awful each time you tell a joke.”

Dray doesn’t seem in any way affected by this, much to Harry’s exasperated annoyance. “I don’t believe you, Potter.” She drawls, looking at her nails with an air of haughty indifference. “You laughed, ergo, I am *hilarious*.”

Harry can’t bring herself to wipe that look of smug satisfaction on Dray’s face, so with another dimension-shifting eye-roll, she turns back to the basilisk.

 

Dray waxes lyrical about how impressive Harry is to have slain the gigantic beast “and in your second year!”, and after blushing furiously, unable to meet Drays gaze for a good few minutes, Harry decides that if Dray gets a free pass on thinking her awful jokes are funny, then she deserves Dray’s excessive praise. If she’s entirely honest, Harry feels practically giddy with elation at her words.

“Don’t go giving me a big head, Dray.” Harry teased, looking directly at Dray, because she was all to intrigued to watch this once perpetually hateful, angry, arrogant face, flit through emotions. Dray with her walls down is endlessly fascinating – not that Harry would ever admit it. A strange look comes over Dray’s face, one that Harry can’t quite place. Dray’s gaze too, is fixed on Harry, and Harry feels her face heating with the knowledge that all Dray’s considerable attention is fixed on her.

When Dray drops her eyes, Harry feels strangely bereft.

Dray clears her throat awkwardly. “We, should ah – put a stasis charm on the basilisk.” Dray says, as she regains her focus. “Uncle Sev would kill for any one the ingredients he could extract from this thing.”

XXX

Over long distances, the connection Severus holds to Harry’s mind is weakened even more than it has been of late. He only really notices her particularly strong emotions while she is far. The emotions that filter through when Harry is off with Dray are tinged with few noticeable flavours, the most frequent, and strong of which is happiness. 

Happiness, Severus reminds himself with guilt, is an emotion Severus does not feel often from Harry while she shares his company. 

There was another thing: Severus could swear he felt Harry’s guilt through the bond. What could make his Bondmate feel guilty however, leaves him stumped.

Then again, perhaps he was misplacing his own guilt as belonging to Harry.

Severus turned down the temperature on the final potion he was brewing for Harry, and left it to gently simmer, while he got out vials in which to decant the potion.

He heard the portrait to their chambers open and close, and heard Harry’s all too familiar light tread. 

“Did you have a good day?” he called out, stoppering the last vial.

He stepped out of his lab to hear Harry’s response.

“Yeah, I did. You?”

“I’ve been - brewing.” Much the best pastime as far as he was concerned. “Potions for you, actually.”

“Dreamless sleep?” Harry looked at him questioningly.

“I did brew a half batch of Dreamless sleep. I noticed that you don’t take a dose every night any longer,” Harry dropped her gaze, and Severus moved on quickly, his effort to re-establish Harry’s sense privacy, at least somewhat “so I thought it’d be futile to brew a full batch. For the most part, they are nutritive potions.” Severus mentally cursed the Dursley’s for about the hundredth time today, “I also brewed an appetite enhancer. You definitely eat too little” Harry emanated surprise (which she likely felt at being treated with care and concern, Severus thought bitterly) and – hurt? That was not what Severus had expected.

“Thank you, Severus.” She smiled, but Severus now knew that that smile was not genuine.

“Harry?” Severus was tentative. “What’s wrong?” Harry’s stab of anger at that was wholly unexpected. 

“Stop. Doing. That.” She said through gritted teeth, glaring at Severus.

XXX

Harry was truly furious. “Stop reading my emotions, you hypocritical, arse.” If Severus knew she was angry, she felt no point in holding back. No point in mincing her words. 

“Hypocritical?” Severus asked, startled. 

“Bully for you that you can shield your emotions. Well I can’t. You don’t want me to read your emotions, but you don’t even bat an eye at reading mine.” Harry was throwing all caution to the wind.

“Harry, I –” 

“No! It’s not your turn.” Harry shouted over Severus “I don’t know what your deal is, but evidently, you have something to hide. Gods! Am I repulsive or something? You can’t even look at me straight anymore. Why the fuck do you think I do all this?” Harry gestured angrily down her body. “Next time you want me to drop these glamours, or metamorph-whatevers, you’ll have to fucking force me. I don’t need to hear from you what a freak I look like and I sure as hell don’t need to see it in your face every time you look at me.” The “too” was left unsaid in that last statement, but Severus still heard it.

Severus stepped forward, and Harry fearing she may have gone too far, took a stumbling step back. Her eyes were wide and watchful, her arms tense, and half crooked, ready to protect herself.

Severus raised his arms, palms wide, in a placating manner. “I made a mista- I made an assumption.” He said. “I thought perhaps-” he didn’t know how to say this without looking like he was prying. “Do you remember that night? When I asked you to treat me like your bondmate, and you assumed I wanted- well, wanted something you wouldn’t want to give?”  
Hesitantly, Harry nodded, arms slackening.

“Well, I thought those pig-muggles might have –” He paused to inhale “done something to make you expect that treatment.” Harry looked confused, so Severus went on: “I thought perhaps they might have touched you. Inappropriately.”

The confusion cleared. Harry raised her chin, and let out an ugly laugh. “The Dursleys wouldn’t touch a freak like me. They wouldn’t want to soil themselves.”

Severus allowed himself a moment the relief these words brought, though the relief was soured by her justification. 

“So that’s it then?” she said, her mouth twisted in a sneer that didn’t suit her. “You don’t want the Dursleys sloppy seconds?”

Anger flared white hot inside of Severus. He would KILL those muggles for the ruin they had caused. Without thought, he slammed his fist down.

The effect was almost immediate. Harry had backed stumblingly into the wall. This dance they were engaged in, was all too familiar, and intensely frustrating. Severus felt that every step forward he took, induced a backwards step in Harry. Every reaction he gave to an emotional outburst from Harry, every loss of his control, and she shuttered, her emotions all of a sudden too in control to allow them to be seen.   
The change in Harry was so vast and so rapid, that it rendered her almost unrecognisable. Severus wondered if this closed off, skittish Harry was the only one that existed in the summers, when she was sent back to her abusers. He wondered further, how any other version of Harry could exist after all the Dursley’s had done. 

Her gaze darted between the door and Severus himself, who, with exaggerated slowness had reached for his wand, extricated it from his robes, and allowed it to clatter to the floor, wincing as it hit the ground. He could almost hear Olivander’s disapproving tut.   
Harry was tensing and relaxing her muscles in rolling waves, as though trying to sink further into the wall, as she edged her way closer to the door.   
As calmly as he was able, Severus spoke: “Calm down Harry. Let me explain.” The spasmodic writhing had ceased when he spoke, but Harry became rigid with focus. At least she was no longer trying to make her escape. Severus had no doubt that one wrong move on his account would result in the coiled spring that Harry had become, releasing, and she would most certainly run.

“If you would like to go, I will not stop you,” Severus tone still inflected with forced calm. “but I would very much like to explain.” She gave no sign of relaxing. “I am going to get myself a cup of tea, and then I’m going to sit down, alright? If you want to join me, you can.” 

XXX

Heart thumping, Harry watched as Severus called out for an order of oolong tea, her eyes drawn to his wand, which lay unassumingly on the floor of their chambers. 

As her spike of adrenaline was rapidly burned up, Harry had begun to feel a bit silly. Despite her initial beliefs, Severus was nothing like Vernon Dursley. He had not hurt her since their first night as a bonded pair, and Harry had long since come to realize that that event was an anomaly. Severus could be trusted, she was fairly certain of it, so why did she behave like some weak, frightened child around him.

Her face was hot with shame, and it was a long time before she was able to push herself away from the wall, to sit across from him. He had already drunk half a cup of tea, studiously avoiding looking at her. Harry could not help but feel a surge of gratefulness for this respect of her privacy. 

He didn’t speak, and Harry shifted uncomfortably. After a time, she realised that he expected her to speak first and so, hurriedly she said: “Sorry.” and stared at the rug as though it held the secrets of the universe. 

XXX

“I think,” said Severus evenly “that if you cast your mind back, you’ll remember that I asked you to speak your mind. I hope you are not apologising for doing as I asked.” He blew at his tea unnecessarily, for surely it could not still be hot.

Harry mumbled something unintelligible to her lap, but Severus thought he made out the word ‘shouting’.   
“Sometimes, Harry, shouting is warranted when no one is listening to you, or perhaps when you feel you are not being heard.” Severus said gently. “I think that you do not trust adults to listen to you, and so, sometimes, you do not speak at all. It’s impossible for me to hear you when you do not speak, and it is this, I believe that made you feel unheard.” 

Harry glanced up quickly, clearly stunned at this revelation of his, but couldn’t sustain her gaze, and dropped it. 

Severus had a sneaking suspicion that she felt ashamed, which reminded him. 

“What gave you the impression that I found you unappealing?”   
Harry chewed her lip, and didn’t speak, but Severus was willing to wait.

“You stopped looking at me in the same way.” She said eventually. “You stopped touching me.”

“Because I assumed-“  
“You assumed that I was being assaulted by my uncle. Yeah. I got that.” She said bitterly.

“I think you misunderstood me.” Severus put his cup on the table between them, leaning forwards. “I did not want to touch you, not because the thought that you had been touched by your uncle made you repulsive, but because I did not want you to think that I would be willing to force what you did not want to give. I did not want to hurt you and I didn’t want to be like him.”

The surprise on her face was unmistakable. She stared at him, agape, and said eventually: “I know you aren’t like him.”

Severus felt the weight of that worry lift slightly. 

“Y-you told me before that you’d never force me, so I also know that you wouldn’t do – that.” She flushed high in her cheeks.

She was chewing her lip again, so he knew she had more to say. He waited.

He jerked in surprise when again she spoke, for so much time had elapsed. She spoke as though continuing a train of thought to which he had not been privy.

“So then, why do you hide your emotions?”

It took him a moment to make sense of this. “You mean occlude?”

She stared at him blankly. 

“I am a spy for the light. You know this, I am sure. Legilimency is a branch of magic that allows one to read another’s mind. The dark lord is rather adept at this skill, so I have taken to occluding, or shielding my mind to prevent his discovery of my double agenda.” Harry still looked like she didn’t understand how this fit into everything.   
“I dropped my occlumency shields for the first time in decades to allow you to reciprocally feel my emotions, and he sensed it. That is why he summoned me.”

She looked queasy with guilt, but before she got it into her head to apologise, Severus said hurriedly “It’s not your fault. You had no way of knowing. Even I did not know he would be able to sense the change.”

“You aren’t hiding something then?”

Severus groaned internally. How could they both so fundamentally misunderstand each other?   
“If I may,” he asked, “what did you think I was hiding?” 

Once again, Harry flushed.   
“I thought- well. I mean, I know you don’t like me like that. I know we’re only doing – stuff – because Dumbledore told us to or whatever. I thought maybe you didn’t want me to see how much it grossed you out to like, touch me and stuff. To make it easier you know. I suppose that doesn’t make much sense, because you’d stopped touching me altogether, but I thought that maybe that was because you’d seen how I really looked, and that had made it even harder. So, I understood why you made the potions, to make things easier for you. And I’ll dri-” This was all said at breakneck speed, with barely a breath between sentences. 

“HARRY!” Severus shouted to break the verbal stream of self-deprecation. “What in Merlin’s name gave you the impression that you repulsed me?”

“It’s alright professor, I swear. I’m not offended or anything. I know I’m not a looker. I’ll take your potions and everything. I just – overreacted a bit.” 

Not a ‘looker’? What on earth did she think she was? Chopped liver? 

“It’s Severus, not professor.” He reminded gently. “And I find you in no way unappealing, Harry.”

She jerked her head, irritably shaking off his response. 

“No, really Harry. I find you rather attractive.”   
She glared at him. “If this is some kind of joke, I don’t find it amusing.” There was something distinctly Lily-ish about her anger. 

“Gods, you’re so thin Harry.” Harry said in a cruel imitation of Severus’ voice. “I know you find Miss Potter’s unusual disfigurements intriguing, but try to contain you doughy-eyed adoration for outside my class, Weasley.”

Had he truly said that? Would everything Severus had said to Harry come back to haunt him. 

“Yeah, well I have a damn sight more disfigurements than you realized, Severus.” Harry snarled.

XXX

Severus started unbuttoning his shirt. Had she gone too far? She held her ground, even sitting up straighter. She would not cower like an animal. His movements were fast and jerky, and Harry thought he must be truly furious. She raised her chin boldly - even though she didn’t feel it.

He threw his shirt to the floor and stalked towards where she sat on the couch. Harry clenched her fists to hide their shaking.   
“Look at me.” He said roughly, gesturing down his body. She obstinately kept her eyes on his face, her gaze hard. “I said” he spoke through gritted teeth “Look. At. Me.” Her eyes slid downwards, almost against her will, too used as she was to following orders. She started in surprise. His frame was thin and wiry, but that was not what shocked her. 

“You see? I have scars too, Harry.” He did. Not quite so many as she did, but the ones he had were severe. Lines of scarring from deep cuts crisscrossed his chest. An unusual knot of scaring swirled in the slight hollow below his ribcage. He turned while she stared, to show more cuts on his back, and an old burn scar snaked its way from his where his scapula winged, past the waistband of his trousers. 

“Now tell me, do I look repulsive to you?”

Her mouth too dry to speak, she shook her head mutely. 

Severus knelt in front of the couch where she sat, his knees framing hers. “I can be a vitriolic, sharp tongued, bastard at the worst of times, and a supercilious, oblivious, git at the best of times. I say things intended to hurt, and more often than not, I achieve my goal.” He said all this barely above a whisper, and no one could mistake the pained sincerity in his tone and face. “Pot- your father was thick skinned. When you arrived at Hogwarts, I made the mistake of assuming you had somehow imbued his character. Not just his arrogance, but his thick skin,”

Harry opened her mouth to object that she couldn’t be like James, for she had never known him, but Severus raised his hand to stay her, and spoke over her 

“I know I was wrong Harry. Please do not mistake my words for attempted excuses. I am about as far from perfect as it is possible to be. *I am dismissive of the virtuous, unaware of the beautiful, and uncomprehending in the face of the happy.* I accused Po-James of being fatally immature. Immaturity was something he mostly grew out of; I am unable to make the same claim, it seems. I have attacked those that hurt me, I have betrayed the few that trusted me. I sought glory and admiration from the darkest recesses of wizarding society and only saw fit to seek redemption when it was far too late. I am a grown man, and I have used my position at times to bully those weaker than me. Please do not take my words, especially my words of the past, as fact. 

“I do not think you unusually disfigured. You are a beautiful young lady who has suffered immensely at the hands of those who were supposed to protect you. Your scars are not a sign of weakness, Harry. They’re a sign of strength. You survived this. Look at you. You suffered horrors no one should have to experience, and came out of it all with hope, and dignity, and an irrepressible strength. You have demonstrated more compassion in your short than life many people could hope to possess in a hundred lifetimes, when by all rights, you should be a bitter, angry, hateful person.” Severus Snape had immense respect from the young woman he had the good fortune to call his bond-mate. He had not left his abusive childhood so emotionally unscathed.

Silent tears left searing, salty tracks down Harry’s cheeks.

‘“Now as to this potions business: you’re thin. Unhealthily so.” Shame swelled within Harry. “But if you think for one second that that is your fault, then you are deluded. Harry, those vermin that call themselves your family, starved you.”

Harry shook her head mutely, still unable to speak, but Severus seemed to understand. “I know that they did occasionally, if grudgingly, feed you, but what little food they gave was low in protein and nutrients. That has disastrous effects on your health and on your magic.” He looked at her severely. “I am attempting to correct the damage they have done to you through their abuse and neglect. I am not fixing you. Do you see the difference?” 

Through the tears now falling thick and fast, Harry nodded. 

“Is there anything else you wish to discuss?” 

 

Harry croaked a “No” swallowing thickly around her tears. 

“Maybe you should go clean up, then. I don’t know about you, but I could do with a large supper.”

XXX

 

Later that night, Severus’ thoughts were still entirely consumed by Harry.   
Severus still couldn’t bring himself to initiate intimacies. Logically, he knew that her pig uncle had left that particular stone unturned when it came to Harry’s abuse, but she had been abused by almost every other means imaginable.

 

He knew she was mistrustful, particularly of adults, and Severus felt that if he was always the one initiating, always the one pushing her another step further, she would begin to feel forced.   
He also knew that he didn’t entirely trust that she would say no when she wanted him to stop. 

Thoughts like these kept him awake at night. He was going to leave things, wait for Harry to initiate. If she ever did.  
Perhaps… perhaps if he said something to her it could ease the transition.

“Harry?” he spoke into the darkness, half hoping she was asleep. 

“Yeah?” came the sleepy response. 

“I thought perhaps,” he licked his lips, “Perhaps you should head things up from now on.”

“Huh?” came the groggy reply

“I don’t want to push you into things. I believe, if you told me what to do, then it would make things easier. Smoother. Perhaps make you feel more secure.”

She shifted, turning over. “Oh. You mean like I give you orders?” she sounded put out. 

“Well, not necessarily. But you should perhaps –” he trailed off.

“Perhaps?” she questioned.

Severus licked his lips again, mouth dry “Perhaps you could uh- initiate things. And break them off.” 

“Oh.” Harry said again, lamely. “Alright then.” She turned back over, laying her head down.   
She wasn’t asleep. It was too quiet. He couldn’t hear her breathing. 

Eventually, sleep rose to claim Severus, and he allowed himself to be pulled into its murky depths.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Favorite quotes? Comments? Kudos?   
> I devour them (and love them...)


	22. Taking risks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello fellow humans!
> 
> This chapter is short, so there will be a second one coming later today.
> 
> There is a fairly common trop that will start to take form in this chapter. I recognise it from the acclaimed Josephine Darcy's "The Marriage stone".  
> All credit for the idea of course, goes to the authors that came before me.
> 
> There is a question that I want to ask you all about your experience of different sites. That will come at the end of the second chapter, so keep your eyes peeled. 
> 
> Anyway, on with the story!

Harry’s eyes were fixed on her book, but she had the strangest feeling that Dray’s eyes were otherwise occupied. 

Sure enough, a glance upwards confirmed Harry’s suspicions. Dray’s eyes darted back to her book when Harry caught her staring. 

Harry dropped her quill, stretched and yawned, her back aching. 

“You’re bored?” Dray asked hopefully.

“Yeah, but we need to finish this chapter for Flitwick, don’t we?” Harry said, looking strained.

“I don’t know about you…” said Dray with feigned haughtiness “but I do believe I am quite charming enough already.” 

Harry, against her better judgement, snorted. 

“How do you intend to convince me to procrastinate this time? We are not shoving dung bombs in Filches office again. We very nearly got caught.” Harry said, exasperated.

“We did not ‘nearly get caught’.” Dray snarked. “You nearly got caught because you suck at being stealthy. I’m a Slytherin and a Malfoy. We never get caught.” she smirked “Besides, it’s not trouble making this time. I thought we could harvest some ingredients for Sev. From the Basilisk, you know? Christmas is coming up soon, after all.”

Harry rolled her eyes, tempted to remind Dray that she had most assuredly got caught in the past few years, and that charms work was more important than Christmas, but then she relented, closing her chapter on ‘Charming the unamiable.”

Dray looked entirely too pleased with herself. 

XXX

“What’s that?” Dray asked, pointing to the open mouth of the giant statue of Salazar, within the Chamber of Secrets , as Harry rolled up the shed basilisk skin.

“The ugly great snake came out of there.” Harry shivered at the memory despite herself. 

 

“Dray don’t!” Harry said, startled.

Dray was clambering up the statue, her hand clinging to the bottom lip of the statue, an orb of bluebell flames bobbing behind her. “Come on Harry? We’re adventuring!” Dray cajoled.

When Harry hesitated, Dray sneered “Scared Potter?” harking back to the last time they’d stood in this chamber, and Harry had used these words on Dray. The Gryffindor definitely couldn’t turn down a challenge, not when the gauntlet was so blatantly thrown at her feet.

“As if!” Harry responded laughingly, taking a running leap to grasp the lip of the statue and clamber up after the Slytherin. 

The throat opened into a cavernous, cylindrical passageway, and the pair jostled and jockeyed for the lead in the tunnel, breaking out into another, smaller antechamber, shoving into each other bickering about who was more deserving of heading up the ‘adventure’.

They stopped at the sight of a large carving of a three-headed-snake, on a patch of wall that looked suspiciously door-like. They glanced at each other, wide eyed, and Dray nudged Harry forwards.

“Open” Harry hissed. The wall stayed obstinately still, and wall-like.   
“Alohomora” she said in English, and then in Parseltongue.  
“Salazar?” she hissingly tried.  
“Open sesame!” that one was more for laughs.   
“Abracadabra” she actually snorted with laughter at that one. Perhaps it was just a decorative wall after all.

“What?” Dray said, irritated at being left out. 

“I can’t get the password.” Harry said. 

“Well, what have you tried?”

“The usual.” Harry responded. “Open, Alohamora, Salazar, Abracadabra. That sort of thing.”

Dray gasped. “Why would Salazar use the killing curse as a password?” she looked scandalised. 

“Not the Killing curse, you prat.” Harry said, exasperated. “Muggle magicians use it. You know: Hocus-pocus!” she wiggled her fingers “Higgly-piggly.”

Dray snorted, and then giggled, covering her mouth, although it did little to disguise her laughter. “You sound like an idiot.”

Harry punched her shoulder.

Dray squawked in surprise, and rubbed her shoulder, looking affronted. 

“Try ‘runespoor’.” She said, still scowling, and rubbing her injured arm. 

At Harry’s befuddled look, she said “Gah, you really are an idiotic Gryffindor. The snake on the wall? Three heads? It’s a runespoor, you numpty.”

Harry glared at Dray, with no heat, and then turned back to the wall. “Runspoor.” She hissed, more to satisfy Dray, than because she thought it would actually work .

The door slid open. 

“There’s no need to look so smug.” Harry shot at Dray. 

 

XXX

Past the door was a library. A small one. About double the size of Harry’s broom cupboard.

Dray looked like a kid in a candy store, and Harry barely resisted the urge to call her a gigantic nerd. Mostly because Harry was one herself. 

Dray touched the spines reverently, reading the titles. 

Most of them looked to Harry to be incredibly dark, and she shuddered. 

“What in Merlin’s name -?” Dray spoke from behind her.

Harry turned. “What?”

“These ones aren’t even in English.” She sounded disappointed. “I’ve never seen this script before.” 

Harry looked over Dray’s shoulder at where she was pointing, and looked incredulously back at Dray. “Are you blind? It says The Chronicles of Darkness and Light: Volume 3.”

Dray looked between the book and Harry, more excited than Harry had ever seen her. “No way? Are you sure? Can you see other volumes?”

Harry looked over the shelf, studying the books carefully “Yeah. It goes from one to twelve, I think.” She said, pointing at the books, and wondering if Malfoy was pulling her leg.

“Uhh, Harry?” Dray said uncertainly. “English would be great.”  
“What do you mean?” Harry said, irritable. “I’m speaking English.” 

“Now you are, but you were speaking in Parseltongue before.”

Harry frowned, and looked between the books and Dray. If she focussed hard, the letters seemed to writhe and reform. 

“I think…” Harry began.

“It’s written in Parseltongue isn’t it?” Dray’s excitement was mounting. 

“The dark lord himself would kill to see these!”

Harry looked at her warily. She hated that title; Voldemort was no Lord.

“Salazar’s lost chronicles!” she said to Harry, as though this should be obvious. Harry’s eyes widened. 

“The whole set. Wizarding kind have been looking for these for over a century. Only one copy of each book in existence, and it’s been right under our feet all this time?” Dray gazed rapturously at them “They’re basically priceless.” She said dreamily. 

XXX

Harry got back to their chambers after walking Dray to her common room. They had decided to go back to the chambers the next day, to place the books in preservation boxes (courtesy of gold from the Malfoy vault, and Hogsmeade emergency mail order) so they could be brought up to the room of requirements, and the long process of translation could begin. 

Distracted, Harry ran into someone just past the Slytherin portrait hole.   
“Watch it!” a familiar voice shouted.

“Ron?” Harry said in surprise. She hadn’t seen him outside of class in weeks. Shed been having meals with Dray in the room of requirements, or with Sev in their chambers. She’d even had one or two meals with Neville, Ginny and Luna, outside by the Great Lake. Her nights were, of course, always spent with Sev.

She watched his irritation turn to surprise, and to Harry’s disbelief, disgust. “Potter?” he sneered. “What are you doing here?”

“I-” she hesitated, heart rate skyrocketing. She felt filthy still, because he knew. She was sure Hermione had told him what she had done, and that was why he hated her. 

He shoved past her, knocking her shoulder into the stone wall, as he stalked away.

Harry blinked away the tears that stung her eyes, and sped up, on her way to Severus’ chambers, rolling her aching shoulder as she went.

She immediately made her way to their bathroom to wash her face, because Severus was in his labs, and she didn’t want him to see her tears.

She decided to have a shower, to allow herself to calm down. By the time she came out, Severus was sitting in the lounge, nursing a drink. Harry had mostly finished her homework, and didn’t have the heart to keep working on charms anyway. 

What she really wanted was a hug, but Severus had said a few nights ago, that she was supposed to be in charge. She had no idea how to ask him for comfort without seeming weak and weedy. Aunt Petunia had laughed in her face when she had come home, in tears and seeking comfort, because they had been asked to draw a family tree in class, and the other children had teased her for not knowing her parents’ names.  
Who was to say Severus wouldn’t laugh in her face too?

Severus sat on the couch, a book in his hand. Harry, cautious at first, had sat next to him. She eased herself closer in such slow increments that it must be barely noticeable, until with a push from her would-be Gryffindor bravery, she laid her head on his shoulder.

Severus didn’t pull her closer, but he didn’t push her away either. 

This emboldened her, and she pulled at his arm, forcing him to release his book. He seemed to get the message, for he put his arm around her shoulder.   
She wanted him to rub her back like he had /that/ night, but she didn’t know how to ask for it. Instead she kissed his neck, no more than a peck, half moving onto his lap to do so. His hands came to rest in her hair, combing through it, root to tip. She shivered pleasurably, leaning against him and closing her eyes.

 

When she woke the next morning, she was in bed, without any memory of how she got there. Her heart was thumping, for moments before, she had been running down the now familiar, long, black corridor, towards the mysterious door, that she could never quite reach.

XXX

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your wonderful comments, queries and kudos keep me writing, so keep them coming! ;P


	23. Disguise the light

Harry, for the first time in her life, had a blueprint on how comfort was consistently earned. Even if only from Severus.

She knew from trial, and thankfully few errors, that pressing a kiss to Severus’ cheek, as if intending to initiate intimacy, and then settling her head on his chest, would cause strong, warm arms to wrap around her, and if she was lucky, he’d rub his fingertips into her scalp, or soothe his hands over her back until she fell asleep.

She also knew, although this wasn’t as thoroughly tested, that if she pulled away, the comfort would cease, no questions asked. 

Now, she habitually sought it out, and some days, she wondered how she’d survived so long without it. Severus wasn’t frugal in his affections, when she pushed for it. He never turned her down, he never laughed . He made her feel normal; wanted. 

 

She washed her hands of the remnants of the squid she had been mincing for Severus, allowing her mind to wonder. But then she switched off the tap.  
She was already late for her promised meet up with Dray, so, with a preservation box, containing Salazar’s first chronicle, she made for the room of requirement.

XXX

Dray looked up from her spot on a beanbag, on the now wooden floor of their study room in the room of requirement, to see Harry stooping through the doorway, flushed with exertion.

“Sorry I’m late! I was helping Sev brew.”

“Tardiness, Potter” Dray tutted imperiously. “The punishment is death.” She pointed her wand at Harry, slashing it through the air.

Harry grabbed her chest in mock agony, slowly collapsing to her knees. “Tell – Dray” she coughed, and heaved in a wheezy breath “she can’t take – my broomstick.” She took a last, rattling breath, and slumped on the floor.

“You wish your broomstick was better than mine.” Dray snorted derisively.

Harry didn’t respond, for she was still feigning death on the floor. 

“Up, Potter.” Dray said to no reaction. “We have work to do!” she tried again.

“Get up, you dramatic lug.” She nudged Harry with her foot. 

With lightning-fast, seeker reflexes, Harry had Dray by the ankle. 

“Potter” Dray growled. With an almighty tug, Harry toppled Dray, sprang lightly to her feet, and made for the study table. 

“I don’t need a better broom when I’m a better seeker.” Harry smirked, sweeping her hands, primly, over her skirt.

“Up, Malfoy.” She said sweetly, returning Dray’s words. “We have work to do.” 

Dray groaned dramatically, and flopped her hand over her eyes, wondering just how she got herself into this mess. Potter was insufferable. Yeah, insufferable. Not wonderful at all.

Harry’s head was bowed over volume one when Dray finally dragged herself off the floor. 

“Anything interesting?” Harry, head still bowed, responded in a stream of sinuous hisses. Dray felt her stomach flip flop, pleasurably, a feeling she did not fully understand. She liked that sound more than she cared to admit.   
She drew a chair next to Harry’s “English. ” She said, lightly bashing her shoulder into Harry’s 

Harry looked up, flushed, stared at Dray, and forced her mouth, with concerted effort, around English syllables. 

XXX

 

“Better?”

 

Dray nodded, so Harry repeated herself - this time in English.

“It doesn’t make much sense, actually.”

“What does it say?” Harry read the first line of text entirely too aware of how close Dray sat next to her. She looked back at Dray to readjust to English, and spoke. 

And so, the painstaking process began. Harry hissed under her breath while she read, brow furrowed in concentration, Dray squirming beside her.

Dray understood a whole lot more than Harry did, and not for the first time, Harry found herself admiring the Slytherin’s intellect. 

It turned out, not all the information in the chronicles was entirely foreign. Some discoveries had never been lost. A few had been rediscovered in the recent past, and many rang with familiarity. 

There were some hideous curses that didn’t bare thinking about, that even Dray had never heard of, and neither wanted to use, but occasionally, they would find something useful. 

A defensive charm that would cling to the caster for hours, and imbibe the magic of spells cast at it, strengthening as it did so.

A spell similar to “Point me” except, not only could it point the caster north, it could point one towards any person or object, within a certain radius. 

There was a charm that could weave warding charms together, to make them more difficult to dismantle. 

There were even potions, but they were far more challenging to translate, and often skipped past.

The chronicles were basically a hodgepodge of spells, charms and runic inventions and discoveries, with little order or sense.

Harry would read a sentence, stare at Dray to readjust to english, and then repeat it to her. Dray quill in hand, would pen the sentence in their notebook. The process was labour intensive and thoroughly exhausting. After two hours, they both agreed to break, and work at it again the next day. 

XXX

Harry slouched into the room, looking drained. Severus expected her, at any moment, to come for her cuddle, as she did nightly. 

She was a pane of glass. Why she thought she needed to kiss him to get a hug, was anyone’s guess. She seemed comfortable with the arrangement, however, and he was loathe to take any of that comfort away from her. 

“Harry?” He spoke into her groggy silence, after she crawled into his lap. 

“Mmm?” she responded.

His fingers carded through her hair. “I thought I could teach you occlumency. Tonight, perhaps?” 

“Mmmm.” She hummed again. 

 

“Harry?”

He let out a long-suffering sigh. She was too far gone. Maybe another day.

XXX

Harry felt hands smoothing down her hair and leant into them. Nails scraped deliciously over her spine, and her eyes fluttered shut.

There were lips against hers – soft, lightly chapped lips and gentle touches. An insistent, warm body, that tugged at her clothes, uncoordinated with desperation. Pale, gangly limbs, grazing teeth, and long, silky-blond hair, that fell in a curtain around her face. Her hands mapping gentle, warm curves that fitted against her own.

She wanted this. Wanted it more perhaps, then she had ever wanted anything. She wanted to feel, to taste, to see. There wasn’t time and her senses too dull to ever appreciate this enough.

Rolling pressure sent pleasurable waves of ecstasy up her spine. Her whole body felt alight with it.  
And then she woke.

Blankets rumpled around her, she ceased the insistent rolling her hips, pulling her hands out of her pants, as though branded. She looked guiltily around the room, feeling ill. Severus, thankfully, wasn’t there. She washed her hands vigorously, before deciding that what she needed was a shower.

She scrubbed herself raw, the water scaldingly hot against her back. Don’t think about it, she told herself over and over again.   
It was burned into her retinas. All she could see when she closed her eyes was Dray. She had to pull herself together before she saw Dray. Before she saw Severus for surely, he would see right through her; see her guilt all over her face.

 

Neither of them could ever find out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to ask what your experiences of ff.net, archive, and wattpad have been?
> 
> I have found a great number of kind people on archive, and have always left smiling.   
> I haven't had many trolls: thankfully only 2 or 3, but all of them have been on ff.net, and while my experience hasn't been negative, it's not been quite like archive.  
> I've only just begun posting on wattpad, and the experience has been entirely underwhelming. 
> 
> What do you guys think of the sites? Do you have a preference for where you write and where you read?  
> Are there any other sites that you prefer?
> 
> As always, thanks for reading, liking and commenting.


	24. Projection

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another two chapters. Keep an eye out for the second.:P
> 
> I'm always blown away by your comments, so thank you all.
> 
> Voldylady, I thought perhaps you deserved a chapter dedicated to you after all the many comments you have left.   
> This one is for you:

She stumbled through the day, never quite meeting Dray’s increasingly concerned stare.   
It all came to a head in the room of requirements.

“What’s wrong with you today?” Dray asked, clearly confused. 

“It’s nothing.” Harry said, a little too quickly.

Dray put her hand on Harry’s shoulder, preventing her from turning away, and peered at her, concernedly. “Are you alright?”

“I-” Harry forced herself to take a deep breath. She had to calm down. She looked at Dray, finally, and put on the best smile she could manage. “I’m just tired.” she said.  
This seemed to satisfy Dray, at least somewhat, for she released Harry’s shoulder. 

“Honestly,” Dray practically forced a yawn, “I am too.”   
And to Harry’s horror, a four-poster bed materialised in the centre of the room where the desk had been.

“A nap sounds like a brilliant idea!” Dray said cheerily, clambering onto the bed.  
Harry stood frozen. She couldn’t very well say she wasn’t tired, when she’d just said the opposite. She could ask the room for a new bed? Yes. That was what she'd do. She closed her eyes, opened them, and glanced around her. Nothing, whatsoever, changed.   
Dray was patting on the duvet and telling her to stop faffing, and so, for wont of appeasing that hurt look edging onto Dray’s face, Harry went. 

She clambered onto the bed, her heart beating so loudly that surely Dray could hear it  
Dray stretched, and her shirt pulled up slightly, revealing her smooth skinned midriff. Harry swallowed, averting her gaze and lay down, squeezing her eyes shut to feign sleep.

This must be what hell was like, surely. She was hyper-aware of every dip of the mattress as Dray shifted. The line of her body closest to Dray was warmer, tingling, hyper-sensitized, despite the vast distance between them. 

As she slipped dizzyingly between wakefulness and sleep, her certainty that this sheer /want/ was wrong, was somehow mussed, blurred by her mental and physical exhaustion.

She shook herself. This was dangerous. Sleeping now would be dangerous. What if she dreamt as she had last night?

That did it. She was wide awake now, feeling worse than ever. She’d have to push this down. She couldn’t afford to hurt Dray, lose Dray, like she’d lost Ron and Hermione. Ever.

XXX

Severus was walking from the bedroom into the lounge, rubbing a towel through shower-dampened hair when Harry came in.   
She had a wild look in her eyes, staring fixedly at him. She came forward, unusually bold. 

He lowered the towel watching her approach uncertainly, mouth half agape.  
She emanated some undefinable emotion - along with an unusual intermingling of dreadful guilt, and determination.

She tugged his head down. This kiss wasn’t the gentle peck of more than a week’s habit; this was a desperate, passionate sort of kiss. She shoved him back through the doorway, and he went, agreeably, to the bed. She pushed him down, rough with not-quite-anger. His arms were at his side and he allowed her to lead the kiss. This seemed to frustrate her immensely, for she pulled his arms over her back, and bit his lip, hard. She kissed him aggressively, teeth clacking against his. It was domineering in a manner that was so unlike her that he felt something was off. When he tried to push her back to ask what the hell was going on, she pushed back against him and growled, low in her throat.   
“Just. Let. Me.” she said through nips and kisses, and he gave in. If she needed to behave like this to get past this - this - mental block, then so be it.   
She moved her hips against his, setting up a delicious friction. She halted for a moment, as his arousal grew noticeable, then jerked her head, as though shaking off an irksome fly, and continued with fervour.   
She tugged his hair, scraped her nails along his scalp, and continued, both of them fully clothed, to shift herself against him. Too out of breath to continue kissing him, she moved her cheek against his, hot pants against his shoulder.   
Her grinding thrusts were becoming more erratic, and he knew she must be close. She stiffened, legs going taut, her breath more a moan against the shell of his ear, her breath hot and damp. She went limp against him, still panting, her heart thumping so wildly, that he could feel it against his own. He was so close. One, maybe two more thrusts. He tried to shift ever so slightly, under her. But then the moment was over. She was pushing off of him, a look of abject horror on her face.   
“I – don’t know -” she looked at his face, as she pulled herself backwards, guilty and frightened. 

“Its fine. Harry, I swear it’s fine.” She touched her hand to her lips, and let her eyes flicker over the rumpled bed sheets, and his creased clothing. Her eyes landed at the meeting of his thighs and darted up toward the ceiling with such rapidity, that it was almost comical. But it wasn't, for she was so clearly afraid. “I didn’t –” her voice quavered.

“It’s alright.” He willed his erection to disappear. McGonagall, in tights. Filch in garters. 

Nothing. 

“This doesn’t mean… - I didn’t- I’m not ready.” she said hesitantly.   
“I know Harry. Calm down.” He put a pillow over his lap, hands shaking with repressed need. “You- you’re still in charge, alright?”

She paused, and then nodded unsteadily. “I-“ she started, but it seemed she couldn’t go on, so she turned tail, and practically ran into the bathroom. He waited, holding his breath until her shower started, before unzipping his trousers. 

XXX

Harry stood under searing jets, for what felt like hours; her tears intermingling with the steady stream of water from above. 

What was wrong with her? 

She had left Dray, her conviction heavy in her gut. She had to get over this perversion. She had to be with Severus. She wanted to be with Severus.

Didn’t she?

What she wanted didn’t matter. What mattered was doing what was right.   
She’d gone through with it. She’d pushed past her ridiculous fears, hadn’t she?

She had thought that what she was doing was right, but now she felt ill with the shame of it. 

 

How could she ever show her face to Severus again?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wish I was a Legilimens, so I could read your minds, but JK Rowling did't give us mere mortals the GIFT.  
> I would absolutely love to hear what you think ;P
> 
> xxx LRW


	25. To sit in flames, and deny you're burning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the second chapter for this weekend.  
> Sorry for the lateness, I dozed off.

It was days before she would even sit close to him again. She was back to being skittish, back to square one. Severus knew that pushing her would only set them back further, so instead, he waited, patiently, until she was ready. 

They never spoke about what had passed between them, and gradually, gradually, by incremental degrees, Harry’s shame dissolved.  
First, She could meet his gaze again, then she could help him with his potions, or join him for a drink as she had before.

 

And, after another one of her frequent afternoons of being with Dray, she had come to him, and kissed him sweetly. Gently. Threading her fingers through his hair as he had so often with her. He sat pliant, and calm, letting her initiate everything, and when she stopped out of the blue, and dashed into the bedroom, he did not question her. 

 

In the early hours of the morning, a few nights before the new moon, he woke to Harry rutting, clumsy with sleep, against the protrusion of his hip bone. She emanated an almost feverish heat, even through both of their layers of clothing. He considered waking her, but perhaps, he could slip out of bed, once she was done, and then he wouldn’t have to deal with her profuse apology and a further few days of her avoidance. She moaned in her sleep. Far more vocal than she ever was awake. 

She mumbled something unintelligible and Severus tried not to listen, embarrassed for her sake. She moaned again, and Severus though he heard her say “Grey” but that made no sense... Oh.  
OH! 

“Dray, please.” she said, the words louder, clearer, her hand clenching and releasing his shirt. He prayed she wouldn’t wake up, and when she finally stopped, he extricated himself from her limbs and, quietly as he could, made his way to the shower.

His chest ached strangely, but that wasn’t important. At least now, he understood why she had been acting so strangely. She liked someone. His goddaughter of all people. That was the cause of her guilt, then? She felt that she could be with him and him alone? She believed he expected monogamy?  
He would look the other way. When she told him - if she told him, he would be gracious. He would, wouldn’t he? He would let her do as she wished. But she had to be the one to come to him. It was not his place to push the topic.  
Patience was far and away the best strategy to employ with Harry, he had learnt.

XXX

Harry was feeling pleasantly warm, and good. Something had happened. Something important - something that felt good.  
The pleasant warmth started to feel less pleasant, so she looked down, and couldn't hold back her shriek of terror, but when she opened her mouth, no sound would come out. She was burning. She was tangled in her blankets, drowning in them, and they were alight, with a fire that ate and clawed at her flesh.  
She tried to push them off, but the more she writhed, the tighter they got, and the more she burned. 

She needed help. Please, Merlin, someone, help her! 

She woke, heart beating a mile a minute, blood roaring in her ears, her limbs tangled in her sheets. Her thoughts chaotic with fear and adrenaline, she struggled to consciousness, feeling all at once hot, and cold, and achy. Her head throbbed, and every inch of skin that brushed the bed sheets, stung, as though every hair follicle were hyper-sensitised.

 

She could here Severus in the other room, with the shower going, and decided that all she needed was a few more minutes of sleep. She rolled over tugging the heavy, feather duvet over her head.

 

What felt like moments later, she heard light steps and a quiet snick as the door closed behind Severus, when he left their bed chambers.

She groaned, and forced herself to roll out of bed.

XXX

Severus couldn’t help but wonder if Harry was more aware of this mornings’ dream than he had initially thought, for she was still in bed, her face covered with the blanket, when he had left the shower. She'd normally be up and about by now. He didn’t think he could bare her going back to being distant and skittish. Not least because it diminished the bond, and weakened his magic. 

He kept irritably casting tempus. Breakfast was very nearly over, and he doubted the Defence against the Dark Arts lecturer would be pleased if she were late.

“Up Harry!” he called from behind the door, rapping his knuckles against the wood of the door. 

Just as he was about to stalk into the room, damn the consequences, and tell her to hurry up, she came out of the room, dressed, but rumpled, with her bag slung over one shoulder. 

She looked strange, but Severus couldn't quite put his finger on it. She wasn't quite meeting his gaze, but he couldn't work out what she was feeling through the bond, so surely, all was well. 

He held out vials of nutritive and appetite enhancing potions that he expected Harry to take every morning.  
She drank them, more reluctantly than she had in the last few days, and Severus bit his tongue, to avoid passing comment. 

Her eyes were over-bright, and he found himself wondering idly if she'd been crying. But surely, if she had been upset enough to cry, he would have felt it through the bond. 

He was about to say something, when she spoke. “We should go, before all the food gets finished.”

They parted ways, and Severus arrived at the heads table, just in time to see her reach the doors of the Great Hall. She hesitated at the doorway, and with a glance at the Gryffindor table, he confirmed his suspicions - Weasley and Granger were still at the table and Harry was still, clearly avoiding them.  
She moved toward the opposite side of the table, strangely timid, and took a plate with a slice of toast, and two rashers of bacon. She glanced up at him briefly, and he gave her a significant look. She sighed heavily, and if Severus wasn't mistaken she rolled her eyes. She clearly understood the look for she added an egg and some tomato to her plate, and then quirked an eyebrow as though to ask if the portion was adequate.  
Severus nodded, smirking, ever so slightly, before bowing his head, his hair falling in front of his face, and continuing his slow progress through his plate of food. 

XXX 

Harry left the Great Hall, and sat with her back to the wall, in a smooth stone alcove, out of the path of regular foot traffic. 

Her breathing was more laboured than it should have been after such a short walk, and she picked at her food, forcing in a few mouthfuls, for even now she could, picture Severus’s disapproval at her meagre portion.  
Despite the appetite enhancing potions she had downed, the portion of food left her feeling nauseated.  
She felt horrendous, and laid her over warm cheek against the wall, for just a moment, to rest. 

XXX 

When the 5th years potions class began, the second class of the day, the students filed in, with the notable exception of his bond mate. Severus threw a questioning glance at his goddaughter, only to find his own expression of confusion, mirrored on her face.  
20 or so minutes in, Harry burst through the door, flushed with panic.  
“Sit down, Miss Potter.” Severus said evenly, as if nothing were out of the ordinary. She looked relieved, as too, he noted, did Miss Malfoy. 

XXX

Harry could not believe that she'd fallen asleep, she'd missed defence and nearly missed the whole potions lesson too. She couldn't believe that Severus hadn't used this as an opportunity to deduct house points, or assign detention. 

Harry started mincing valerian root, Dray babbling beside her about some party in the Slytherin common room.  
Harry’s head pounded something dreadful, and she had to swallow back bile when Dray handed her a toad liver to slice. 

Her head swam, and she couldn't think straight. She scraped ingredients onto a plate for Dray, passing it off with lax, heavy limbs. 

She stared at the next ingredient Dray placed beside her, uncomprehending. Dray spoke beside her, but her ears were stuffed with cotton. She pulled the ingredient - a poorly mixed gritty sand in a glass bowl - towards her, which she ran her fingers through. She noted idly that her hand hurt, when, from what felt like a great distance away, she heard shouting and cursing.  
XXX 

Severus had a general idea of what was happening from the Potter/Malfoy corner of the room. As a pair, they were more than competent, so he felt little concern for not keeping as close an eye on them as he did with the rest of the class. 

It was, therefore, of great surprise to Severus, when a sulfurous smell reached his overly sensitive nose, and he turned to see a green substance, of tar like consistency, eroding through the pewter cauldron of his goddaughter and bondmate, at an alarming rate.  
He cast a containment charm instantaneously. They must have added more than double the required amount of valerian root, if the potion had coagulated as rapidly as it had and, had the congealed stuff touched anyone, the results may not have been so benign.  
As it was, a cauldron-full of rare ingredients had been wasted. Severus turned his thunderous gaze to Harry. 

She sat, slack jawed, the knife held loosely in her hand, gazing at the containment bubble.

“Potter!” he growled, his patience with her, shot.  
Her eyes snapped to his, wide and alert, fist closing convulsively around the knife.  
“Detention.” he bit out, through gritted teeth. 

She flinched away, ever so slightly at his tone, and while he might have felt guilty, he reminded himself that not only had she destroyed a potion, and melted a cauldron, she had also arrived late for class.  
Dray was muttering urgently to Harry. 

“You will both be receiving 0 for this assignment. Pack up your things.”

Dray had raised her hand, and Severus bit back a snide comment. 

“I said,” he repeated, dangerously low, “pack up your things. There is no time to restart.” He couldn’t fully justify the rage that was bubbling in his chest.

Harry started repackaging ingredients, not meeting his hard stare. 

He turned to see Granger with her hand held skywards. Heaven forfend.  
He resolutely ignored her. 

On his second round through the class, she wasn't even seated anymore, so eager was she to get his attention. 

“What Granger?” he snapped.  
Severus stomach plummeted at her words’ “Harry’s hurt, sir.” she responded. 

 

Severus’ heart clenched in guilt. He'd been ignoring Granger and Malfoy for nigh on fifteen minutes.  
He turned to Harry, who was trying to pull out of Dray’s grasp. 

“I warned you about the blister powder. Harry, you have to tell him. ”

She was trying to hide her hands from Dray’s view, glancing warily over Dray’s shoulder at Severus. 

“What?” Dray exclaimed. “They were just there. I saw them. I know I saw them.” finally it seemed, Dray had an unimpeded view of Harry’s hands.  
“I told you I was fine.” Severus saw her mouth the words, for she spoke too softly for him to hear, eyes darting nervously between Dray and Severus. 

“Idiot girl.” he muttered under his breath, as he swept forward. Blister powder’s effects were exceedingly painful. 

“My office.” he said, trying to inject as much calm in his words as he could muster. 

“Get back to work!” he spoke gruffly to the rest of the class, and the noise level, that had dropped considerably, returned to normal.  
He swept into his office, robes billowing and closed his door behind him. 

Harry was unusually compliant and pliable, allowing Severus to pull her arms away from her body. “Show me.” he told her, firmly. She looked away and he watched the blisters appear on her hands, as she metamorphosed, hissing at the sight. How she'd been packing and carrying those vials and jars of ingredients, he didn't know. She'd certainly ruptured a few blisters in the process.  
He chanced a glance at her face, but, as he'd suspected, she'd only metamorphosed her hands. 

He removed the antidote from his voluminous robes and proceeded to rub the balm on her palms. Her breathing rate, which had increased considerably, and the wary expression on her face, belied the calm pliability of her actions. 

“You're quite hot.” he said, her injured hands warm in his own. “That's unusual for blister powder, but not unheard of. You should cool down soon. ”

Harry whispered an apology, looking at her hands in his over-large potion stained ones, although she didn't explain for which infraction she was apologising. 

He swept her out of his office and, with a hurriedly cast tempus, and a heavy sigh, Severus dismissed the class. 

XXX 

Harry ached all over. She found herself moving less, to prevent her clothes from moving against her over sensitised skin. She'd rushed to the bathroom, and emptied her stomach between classes, at least twice.  
She felt like the biggest idiot after Severus’s class. She could deal with being sick. She'd dealt with being sick, on her own for as long as she could remember. Showing she was ill never got her sympathy, or help, it made the Dursleys treat her like she was dirtier than normal. It got her sheets removed, and what little food she might receive, placed in her hands, rather than on a plate, for fear of spreading her disease.  
It got her hosed down in the back garden, with the pressure so high, it was bruising. 

No. It was better by far to deal with it herself, especially when Severus was in such a foul mood with her. Besides, telling would be admitting weakness, and Severus thought she was weak enough already. 

The day, it seemed, was conspiring against her.  
She was sagging with exhaustion, and felt faint with dizziness.  
Once or twice, her vision blacked, and she'd jerk back into awareness, slumped at her desk.  
The one small mercy, was that her later classes weren't with the Slytherins, so she wasn't followed by Dray’s too calculating stare. 

Lunch time, she left the Arithmancy class last, and stood against the wall, in the passage, trying to catch her breath. 

“Harry?” she heard Dray speak from further down the corridor. She pushed herself from the wall, and plastered a smile on her face, sure that this would convince Dray.  
Dizzy, from the sudden displacement, she swayed and foolishly, for Dray noticed immediately, steadied herself on the wall. 

“What's wrong?” Dray said, now very obviously concerned. 

“Headache.” Harry mumbled. “'m fine.”

Cool fingers brushed her forehead, and she couldn't help but lean in to them. 

“You're burning up!” Dray exclaimed, the region between her delicate eyebrows, creasing in concern. “We need to find Sev.”

“No! No, I'm fine. He knows. He told me to get up in the morning, and he said I'd cool down soon in potions - something about the blister powder. It's not that bad. You're just cold from Herbology.”

Dray hesitated, and then nodded uncertainly. “Maybe you should rest - even if just for your headache. I can walk you to the room of requirement?”  
Harry responded in the negative almost instantly, and, once more, reluctantly, Dray conceded. She did however, strong arm Harry into going back to Severus’s chambers in the dungeon to rest. Harry had foolishly said she wasn't hungry, and she had a free after the break, so she had no excuse.  
Truthfully, nothing sounded better than a nap at the moment. 

Dray walked her down, and Harry fell asleep almost instantly after laying her head on the couch. She vaguely remembered Dray tugging the throw over her, and hearing the quiet snick of the portrait door as it closed. 

Hours later, she had a vague recollection of hearing knocking at the portrait door, but she couldn't bring herself to stand to see who was there. 

When sleep came once more to claim her, she followed it gratefully.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd love to hear your thoughts! You know what to do ;P


	26. Somnolence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For Swizyriulr, delizabeth122, luna_storm 13, and Kitty, in repayment for making me smile.

Severus was beyond frustrated with Harry - this feeling mostly driven by concern for her wellbeing. She was behaving with a frightening lack of foresight.   
She'd arrived late for class, destroyed a potion, injured herself with blister powder, an ingredient recognisably dangerous even to his second years, and had been foolishly secretive about it. Probably because she was embarrassed at her own incompetence. 

She hadn't come to lunch and, as he arrived at dinner, he was questioned by both Minerva and the new defence professor, as to his bondmates whereabouts. 

She'd been behaving irresponsibly the whole day. What good were her apologies in potions, when her behaviour had not changed in the slightest? 

He ate quickly, and headed back to the chambers. He came through the door to find Harry sleeping - SLEEPING - on the couch. 

He slammed the portrait door behind him, but she didn't wake.   
It was only as he neared her that he started to think that all was not well. 

There was a blanket half tangled in her legs, half strewn across the floor, and her teeth were chattering, despite the roaring fire in the hearth. 

A niggle of concern had him resting the back of his hand on her cheek. It almost burned with heat. 

“Hurts.” she mumbled, pushing gently at his wrist to move it away from her face. 

“Sit up, Harry.”

She screwed her eyes against the firelight. 

“I need you to sit up for me.”

“Time for class, Dray?” She asked. 

“It's Severus Harry. I need you to sit up for me and drop your metamorphic glamours.”

“No glamours.” Harry repeated back.  
“No magic.” she said more to herself than to Severus.  
“Harry?” he prompted, when her eyes had drifted shut once more.   
Then, her eyes opened and she stared at his chest, repeating to herself. “No magic. I'll be good.” she nodded, earnestly, and curled inward. Her eyes were bright with what he now knew was fever. She'd been ill since this morning then - perhaps longer - and he hadn't noticed. And then, in a whisper directed at her chest, she said again “I'll be good, sir.”

Severus’ concern mounted. She was delirious with fever. 

“That's right, you're good Harry. Now can you show me what you look like?”   
He knelt in front of her, at her eye level, but not touching her.   
“No magic is good.” She reassured herself, and finally, finally, she changed her form. 

XXX 

She looked practically green with illness. The rings under her eyes, more bruising than shadow. “I need you to sit up for me, Harry.” Severus repeated.   
Harry tried to tug at the blanket, clearly wanting to be under it, her teeth chattering. 

Severus put his hands under her shoulder, and at her hip, and pushed her into sitting, for she still had not done as he’d asked. 

“Hurts.” she panted in pain at his touch “Sorry. Was good. Sorry.” she tried to explain. 

On her neck, he could see a familiar pock mark. This almost definitely required Poppy's attention. But this was sensitive, because with her shields down, Severus’s could see all her scars, along with the raised purple marks that characterised Dragon pox - a common wizarding ailment of the young. Harry was too old by far, and hadn't received the vaccine, for she wasn't a Muggleborn, but then again, she had been raised in the Muggle world. He needed her more lucid, so he could ask her permission. 

After collecting potions from his stores, he returned. “Drink this.” he held out a fever reducing draught.   
“Not hungry.” she tried to object.   
Severus tipped the vial against her parted lips, and she swallowed convulsively. She pushed the vial away, heaved, and then vomited all over the carpet. 

She shrank back on the couch, “Sorry, sir. Sorry uncle. I'll be good, sorry.” He vanished the sick with his wand, and covered her white-knuckled hands with his own and she tensed further, fearfully mumbling apologies. 

“It's alright.” he soothed, as though trying to tame a wild animal. “I probably should have given this to you first. It will reduce your nausea.”   
Her fright had made her slightly more lucid, and she complied, downing the vial, with shaking hands. 

She sagged into the couch, when no punishment was forthcoming, clearly exhausted. 

Once the fever reducing draught was down, and staying that way, Harry seemed more conscious, but still drawn. She clutched at the blanket around her waist and stared at a point over Severus shoulder. 

He tilted her chin, to redirect her gaze. “Look at me?” her gaze refocused “Do you know who I am?”. 

She opened and closed her mouth.   
“Professor Snape.” she said finally. That was good enough for him. 

“And can you tell me where you are?”  
She glanced around, confusion clear on her face, and Severus noted with a jolt to his gut, that he couldn't feel that confusion through the bond. Somehow, the bond had weakened enough to halt the emotion transference, and he'd missed the cataclysmic shift in their relationship that had caused it. Now, looking back on it, he could see that he hadn't been able to get a proper read on her for weeks. 

“Your- our quarters. In Hogwarts.” Harry answered his question. 

“You're not well Harry.” She fidgeted, clearly uncomfortable, but not willing to pull away entirely. He released her chin and she ducked it once more, hair obscuring her from his view. 

“I need to get Pomfrey, but she'll see. You understand what I'm saying, don't you?”

Her hands moved reflexively to the hollow of her stomach, above her left pelvic bone where, Severus knew, there was one of the worst of her scars.   
He nodded. 

“I'm fine.” she said, nigh on frantic. “I don't need to see her.”

To abate her panic, he wanted to assure her that she wouldn't be forced. 

“Alright, alright!” his arms were raised placatingly. “We can wait on calling Poppy for the time being. If you get worse however, this will be something my potions can't handle, and then we'll have little choice. I need you to agree to that, or I can't go any further.”  
She nodded, back rigid.   
“I'm rubbish at this form of healing magic. I'll have to use potions, so we need get your robes off.” he said, waiting for her nod, before moving to pull her arms through the sleeves of the robes. She seemed to get the gist, and pulled off her jersey.   
The shivering was more pronounced now. He unbuttoned the sleeves of her white school shirt and rolled them above her elbows.   
She gazed at the pus filled pock marks with an oddly detached curiosity. 

“The blister powder.” she told herself idly. 

“Dragon pox.” he corrected.

This seemed to startle her, but then her expression lapsed back into the unnatural calm detachment that pervaded her interactions today. 

“You need a bath in dittany and oatmeal. It would be difficult to topically apply an ointment. May I transfigure your clothes?”   
She nodded unsteadily, and after transfiguring her clothes into a lightweight set of cotton shorts and shirt, he carried her to the bath, setting her on the toilet. He summoned dilute dittany from his stores and increased its volume so it filled the bath, and called for Dobby, the house elf that veritably doted on Harry, to bring a bucket of oatmeal. 

 

Harry winced when he brushed her skin, but made no attempt to pull away as he lifted her, so that he could lower her into the bath, still clothed in the transfigured shorts and shirt. 

“Cold?” she tensed, clutching at him, so that shifting her was challenging.   
He sat on the edge of the bath, Harry a ball of tension on his lap. He ran his fingers through the contents of the bath. “It's warm.” he assured her.   
“Here, feel.” he cupped some of the dittany infused water in his free hand, and splashed it over her bare leg. She nodded “Warm.” she confirmed. “Hurts.” she told him, her voice strained, pointing to where his arm passed under the crook of her knee. He shifted his arm, not doubting her words. He remembered from his own childhood, how sensitive the pock-marks were to the touch.   
When tears slipped silently down her cheeks, she bowed her head further, so that he wouldn't see.   
He lifted her face, a finger crooked under her chin, and swept the tears from her cheeks with his thumb. “It's going to be alright.” he told her, planting a kiss on her forehead before giving her a pain relieving draught. When he lowered her into the bath this time, she didn't resist. 

She settled into the essence of Dittany gratefully, the unusual blisters caused by her ailment, reducing in size. “I'm bathing in pyjamas.” she smiled weakly, as though amused, clearly more at ease, now that she wasn't in so much pain.   
He'd transfigured the cotton garments because cotton had no adverse effects when exposed to dittany, unlike wool, and because he had wanted to preserve her modesty. 

He sat, cross legged next to the bath, soothing her hair away from her face, his fingers catching in the damp snarls, her eyes drifting shut, as she leant into the touch. 

“Why didn't you tell me?” he asked, finally voicing the question he'd wanted to ask all evening. 

She didn't respond immediately, head tilted back, and eyes closed. 

“I didn't think it mattered.” she said, groggy, and half asleep. 

He had no response to give, but his heart ached at those simple words. She didn't think she mattered enough to deserve basic consideration. She didn't think that being close to deathly ill was a matter for concern. 

 

That night she lay, her cheek pressed against his heartbeat, her breathing slow and even, her lashes dark against her cheeks - closer than they had been in days. 

“Harry?” he whispered into the heavy darkness. She hummed in response, coming awake. 

He needed her to know. He recognised that this at least, was important. 

“You matter to me.”

She curled her arms up against his side, holding him more tightly. She tucked her head, bending her neck so he couldn't see her face, and the chest of his shirt became warm and wet with what he guessed were tears. 

He hugged her to him, his throat aching with emotion. 

XXX

When Harry woke the next morning, she was lying on her side, having moved in the night, her face pressed into a now familiar smelling shirt, a heavy arm slung across her waist. 

She moved her head upwards, so that her face was no longer pressed to Severus’s chest. 

She blinked her eyes open, to the sight of dark, watchful eyes.   
They were close to each other. Extremely close, sharing breaths. Severus’s face was unguarded, having just woken. Obsidian irises flickered down to her lips, and back again. 

Her own eyes were drawn to do the same, but they didn't move back up, because her mind was whirring. 

This is the closest they had been since - well, in a while.   
She guessed he likely wanted to kiss her, from the way he'd looked at her, and the way his lips had parted slightly when her eyes had come to rest on them.   
Her heart was beating out of her chest, her stomach coiled in knots with nerves. 

She was about to pull away, when he turned his face, pulling his arm from her waist, making it blatant that he was letting her go.   
She wasn't ready, and apparently he understood that. Gratefulness swelled inside of her. 

 

“You're staying in bed today.” he instructed in his rumbling baritone a few moments later. 

Her hands clenched convulsively in the sheets. 

“I feel fine.” she lied.

“You may feel fine, but you don’t look it. And honestly Harry, after yesterday, I don’t entirely trust your judgment of your own wellbeing.” Before Harry could interrupt, Severus went on. “Furthermore, you are recovering from a highly contagious ailment. You are placing all of your peers without immunity, at extreme risk.”

Harry sagged, guilt settling heavy in her heart, for she'd been putting them in harm's way all of yesterday. She gave up any desire she might have had to go to class. 

Half an hour later, safely ensconced in bed, Severus bid her farewell before leaving. Moments later, from the next room, Harry could hear voices, followed by the approach of footsteps. 

“There was someone at the door. I thought it best to let them in.” Severs half smirked at Harry, stepping aside to reveal the concerned face of Dray, who was bobbing on the balls of her feet, clearly agitated and wanting to get past Sev. 

Something warm and wonderful seated itself in Harry’s chest at the sight.   
Dray was worried about her. Dray cared about her. 

“She's not to leave her bed.” Severus’ tone was firm, and Dray nodded emphatically. 

Was that - did Severus - was he concerned for her? She thought back to feeling ill with the Dursleys: they had never lessened her list of chores, or fed her more, or really altered their behaviour for her benefit at all. Certainly, when aunt Petunia consigned her cousin to bed rest, it was out of concern for him. 

Last night, Severus had given her potions, and sat with her while she bathed in dittany. He'd carried her to bed and held her against his chest until she fell asleep.   
This morning, she had assumed he wished to kiss her, but his expression had just been gentle, and she had assumed that meant he wanted something. Was it possible for him to care for her just because she was… was what? Because she was the chosen one? Because she was his bond-mate? Or perhaps, even because she was just Harry? 

Was that possible? 

And did it really matter why he cared? Did it not just matter that he did care? 

The warmth in her chest spread. 

Dray bounded forwards and Severus conjured a chair next to the bed, upon which Dray sat. “What are you smiling about?”  
Harry bit her cheek. “Nothing.” her smile widened and Dray beamed back at her. Then her face fell, becoming serious. “I came back yesterday to take you to class, but you didn't answer.” she twisted her hands together, self-consciously. “I was really worried.”

“I'm fine, Dray. I'd just fallen asleep.” Harry tried to reassure her, and Dray graced her with an awkwardly lopsided smile. 

Dobby appeared, not long after, with enough breakfast for the both of them.   
Ravenous, Harry ate gratefully. 

Dray wanted to tell her about the Slytherins Quiddich practice, and some incredible feint she had finally perfected, and Harry listened rapturously, vocally expressing how impressive she thought Dray was, mostly because she was genuinely impressed by the achievement, but partly because she didn't want Dray to change the topic.

Dray suggested practicing together, so that they could teach each other tricks. Harry strongly suspected Dray just wanted to show off.   
That was fine by her. 

Bile rising unexpectedly in her throat, Harry stumbled from her bed, ignoring Dray’s exclamations of disapproval, and ran for the toilet.   
She made it just in time, vomiting up most of the meal she'd just had. 

Cool hands, Dray’s hands, gathered her hair away from her face, and stroked her back, while she heaved into the toilet. 

“And you said you weren't sick, you prat.” Dray snarked. “Idiotic Gryffindor.”

When Harry moved away from the toilet, her expression was guarded.   
“You don't have to keep so many secrets, you know.” Dray spoke quietly from behind her. 

Harry bowed her head. Severus had suggested the same, but it wasn't that simple. 

“I, for example, am terrified of garden gnomes.” Dray announced.   
At Harry’s derisive snort, she added “I was viciously attacked. Nasty little creatures.” she shuddered.   
Harry giggled.

“I also failed a Herbology paper in our second year. So I'm not *entirely* perfect.” the emphasis placed on ‘entirely’ made it all too clear that she was sarcastically claiming to be close enough to perfect as it was. As ever, Dray was trying to make Harry laugh. 

Harry scoffed and rolled her eyes.   
She tried to brush the taste out of her mouth with her toothbrush, and was mostly unsuccessful, until Dray cast a breath freshening charm. 

They whiled away the rest of the Dray’s morning free, playing jenga: a muggle game that Dray was both obsessed with, and mostly awful at (this last fact a major draw to the game for Harry). Dray had nicked it from the room of requirements.  
She had found a way to twist Severus’s “she is not to leave her bed” rule by placing a table next to the bed, so that technically, Harry was still in bed while playing.   
The Slytherin had the same penchant for flouting rules as Harry did, she just did it by twisting the constraints of the rules to suite her purpose so that, for the most part, she couldn't get into trouble. 

Dray never spoke when it was her turn, adamant that talking jinxed her. She looked constipated with focus when she removed her piece, so intent was she to finally beat Harry. 

She babbled and would occasionally yell odd phrases at Harry, out of the blue, in an attempt to throw her off, when it was Harry’s turn to remove a piece from the tower, and place it on top. 

They both had competitive streaks a mile wide and tended to turn everything into a game.

Dray decided to add intrigue to this particular game of jenga, by charming random blocks to explode when removed: a sure fire way to knock down the tower, and cause the unlucky player whose turn it was, to lose. She said this would even things out, for Harry was notoriously unlucky.

They had reached their record height, and the tower teetered theatrically. Dray slid out her piece, smugly certain that this time, there would be no other block to remove for Harry, and the tower would fall when Harry made an attempt. Harry privately agreed with her.   
It was as she placed her block on top of the tower that her own plan, quite literally, blew up in her face.   
The block exploded, in a great poof of confetti, the little wooden blocks cascading to the floor. 

Harry couldn't breathe, she was laughing so hard. 

“You - It -” she snorted, wiping tears from her eyes at Dray’s look of abject horror. 

“That totally didn't count. The block blew up. That's not even part of the game.” she crossed her arms across her chest and glared furiously at Harry. 

“Not part of the game? Miss ‘let's make the game more interesting’. That” she pointed at the splintered remains of the exploded block, “was entirely your idea.”

Dray spluttered indignantly, before conveniently deciding that if she didn't leave now, she'd be late for class. 

As she passed through the door, Harry called out. Dray turned back, her hand on the doorframe. 

“I was in Hogsmeade that day in third year, throwing snowballs at you, and Crabbe, and Goyle.”

It took Dray a moment to recall precisely what day Harry was talking about. “Harry!” Dray exclaimed, scandalised. And then “I knew it! I told uncle Sev!” she thumped her foot on the floor at the eventual, if belated vindication of her accusation. 

And, in a single breath: “I'm also afraid of dogs. And dementors.” Harry said, before she could lose her nerve. 

Dray’s eyes widened, only now realising just what Harry was doing, and then her expression softened, her hand on the doorframe clenched and unclenched in a subtle display of emotion. She didn't speak, just looked at Harry with soft, grey eyes.   
“Bye Harry.” she said finally. 

“Bye ferret.” Harry echoed.   
Dray pulled an ugly face, her tongue out, and left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feed the review monster! ;P


	27. Reaquaintance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because I forgot to mention this last chapter:
> 
>  
> 
> HOLY MERLIN, OVER 500 KUDOS?! 
> 
> You guys deserve all the cookies, but I have none, so here's a reaaaalllly long chapter instead.

Severus returned to his chambers after dinner to the sounds of much tittering and giggling. He pushed open the portrait and was greeted by the sight of Harry, beyond their bedchamber door, gagging and scraping at her tongue.   
At first, he thought she'd sicked up. That was until she threw a pillow at Dray, loudly proclaiming that Dray was “the worst”, took a textbook from Dray, all the while muttering that she would get Dray back. 

He found himself biting back a smile, for Harry was clearly having fun. Jealousy niggled at him, for he wanted to be the one to make her smile, and laugh like that. 

Severus watched on, perplexed as Harry flicked through the pages, until “Aha! There's no way you'll get this one! The forty-third Goblin war ended in 1408. How was it ended?”   
“A treaty was signed between Pickwart and Sargrind after the two sides decided to unite against a common enemy, which precipitated the start of the forty-fourth Goblin War.”  
“You can't possibly know that. How do you know that?” Harry groaned and covered her eyes, as Dray gleefully snatched the book back. “My turn!”  
“Have I told you lately how much I History of magic?”  
“Hourly.” Dray responded with a less than subtle eye roll. 

“I should just eat it now. Get it over with.” Harry griped. 

 

That was when the purpose of the game became clear to Severus, for on the table next to the bed was a jar of Bertie Bott’s Every Flavour Beans. It seemed an incorrect answer earned you a mystery bean.   
An unusual means to study to be sure. 

He cleared his throat. Both girl’s heads jerked up. “Uncle Sev!” Dray leaped to her feet nervously, and Harry seeming very grateful for the distraction, leaped to her feet too.   
“Oh, hi! How was your day?” she darted forwards and Severus surprisingly found himself with an armful of Harry. She hadn't hugged him in greeting in a while. Not since - well, never mind.   
“You're not supposed to be out of bed.”   
She smiled at him innocently and sought to change the topic. 

“You're good at History, right?” she said.   
“Oy!” Dray interjected.   
“Come on Dray! Have a little heart. It's an equaliser - what fun is always knowing the outcome? I always lose and you always win at this one. Look, if he can't get it, we'll both eat a bean.”  
Severus felt that now was the time to bow out. He certainly wouldn't opt into eating those ghastly things.   
“Always? Don't you think you're being a tad dramatic, Potter?” Dray asked.   
Harry gave her a pleading stare, and she folded. “Fine. But only one round.”  
Severus opened his mouth to interject, but Harry was practically buzzing with excitement, so instead, after pouring himself a generous glass of fire whiskey, he sat on the bed next to Harry. 

Dray proved his answer slightly wrong, on a technicality, so he and Harry each had to eat half a bean.   
It was flavoured to taste like rotting fish. 

Even his fire whiskey was unappetising after that. 

He made hurried excuses about potions that were urgently needed by Poppy, and bowed out before either of them got it into their heads to make him take part in another round of their “studying”. 

XXX 

“Harry?” Severus interrupted the calm silence that had settled over the room since his goddaughter had left.   
“Mmmm?” she hummed noncommittally, too drawn in by the book on her lap. 

“I’ve been meaning to teach you how to occlude.” 

Harry closed the book, slowly, and paused before speaking. “So that you can’t read my emotions?”.

“Or your thoughts.” Severus added. 

Harry’s stomach dropped through the floor. “You can read my thoughts?!”. Oh Merlin. Oh gods!

“Not through the bond, no. If I cast legilimency, verbally or silently yes, but otherwise, no.” Severus said quietly, soothingly. “The only time I have done so, was the night I discovered your Curse. And once before that when I suspected - ” he faltered, closing his eyes against the ache, the guilt he felt at letting this slip, at assuming she was well cared for, for so long. “- when I suspected that you were abused.”

Relief flooded through Harry, as Severus studied her with dark, curious eyes.  
“How do I learn?” she asked, now eager. 

“As with all skills,” Severus quirked his lips, “you practice.”

XXX

Severus flood to Dumbledore and returned with a smooth, stone basin. He explained how to extract memories to place in the basin if she had any memories she did not want him to see.  
She spent a long time at that basin. 

A space was cleared, and Severus cast a cushioning charm on their chamber floor, and on most of the furnishings. 

“I’m going to cast legilimency, and I want you to shield your mind as best you can, alright?” 

Harry nodded. 

“On the count of three then. One. Two. Three. Legilimency!”

Images were pulled, against her will, to the forefront of Harry’s mind. 

Hagrid, leading her into Gringotts for the first time.

Petunia, depositing food through Harry’s cat flap.

Lessons with Lupin on casting the Patronus. 

Simmering with irritation in Gilderoy Lockhart's class.

The euphoric, swooping feeling of flight on a broomstick. 

Slumping with exhaustion, as Firenze carried her out of the Forbidden Forest. 

Feeling cold, heavy with fatigue, and frightened as she tried to evade Dudley and his lackey’s “Harry Hunting”. 

Vernon, his fist raised threateningly. 

“NOO!”   
Harry heard the shriek, batedly realising it was her own. Her arms raised in front of her face, her head, throbbing, from where it had collided with the door handle of the door that led to their bedchambers.

Severus was stooped over her, arms extended. His expression of concern rapidly dissolved when she blinked her eyes open “I hadn't thought to cushion the door.” humour danced in his eyes. Perhaps more mirth than humour.   
“Trust you to fall into the one object in the room that could hurt you.”  
He pulled Harry to her feet, “Are you alright?”   
“I'm fine.” she said, wincing as she probed the back of her head.   
“Don't lie Harry. I'm asking because I want to know.”   
“Alright, fine. It hurts.”  
Severus raised a hand: “May I?” she nodded, and he felt around the tender lump, rapidly forming on the back of her head. 

He healed the bump, and ran his fingers through her hair a few more times, to make sure there was nothing else that required healing.   
“You still fear him?” Severus questioned, tentatively, softly, his hands falling away.  
Harry hesitated, and then nodded clearly thinking on his words of moments before.  
“I dream about them still.” she whispered, her gaze unfocused. “I dream that I have to go back.”  
Severus growled, low in his throat. “You will never go back to those monsters. If they were ever found again, I’d sooner kill them then send you back.” and then, to his utter surprise:  
“You can’t! You can’t hurt them Severus.” she gazed at him seriously, fixedly.   
He stared at her, startled. “They deserve torture after everything they did to you. Death would be a mercy.” 

Tears were pooling in Harry’s eyes. “Harry?” he questioned, concerned.   
“We don’t live in a world where people get what they deserve.”  
Confusion blossomed within Severus.   
“Bad things happen to people who don’t deserve them, all the time. So do good things. If I get to choose what people get, even bad people, I choose to give out the good things. The world is awful enough, without us adding to it.” she ignored the tears that slid silently down her cheeks, too focused on convincing Severus. 

Severus had no words, he just stared at her as though seeing her for the first time. After everything she had been through, she was the one teaching him how to forgive. And, on the heels of that thought, for the first time he wondered perhaps if she knew of his great betrayal, she would be able to forgive him too.  
But he couldn’t tell her, for surely this betrayal; the reason she didn’t have a family, the reason she had been left with those heinous creatures she was even still trying to protect - all of it stemmed from that one fatal choice Severus Snape had made; this betrayal was unforgivable. 

He changed the topic, his mouth dry, before his mind, or worse: his mouth, could run away with him.

“Feel up to trying again?” he felt an inexplicable need to fill the silence and spoke again. “For now, I just want you to have an understanding of how an invasion of your mind feels.” One couldn't, after all, defend against something one did not recognise. 

Harry nodded. Her mind needed to be protected. This skill was an essential one.   
He cast again, and like a moving camera reel, images flicked before her, in rapid succession. 

The day she bonded with Severus, fear, dread, and relief warring inside of her, the latter because she may never have to return to the Dursleys. 

Sitting in the Slytherin common room with Ron, polyjuiced to look like Crabbe and Goyle. 

Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle impersonating a dementor on the Quidditch pitch. 

Falling through the air, her vision blacking as the real Dementors drew closer, her mother's screams reverberating in her ears. 

She was standing this time when the invasion of her mind ceased, and for a moment, she thought she'd defended successfully against the attack. But then she saw Severus’s face, drained of colour. 

“You hear Lily when the Dementors draw near.” it was a statement, not a question.   
Harry was reminded forcibly that Severus had known her mother. Better, in fact, than she had. How much more horrifying must those screams have sounded, coming from someone you knew well, someone you cared for. 

“Are you alright?” she asked, when Severus stared, gaze unfocused, into the distance. Severus shook himself out of his unusual trance and apologised.   
“I-I just didn't know.” his mouth was dry, “I didn't know you remembered that night. ”  
Harry stepped lightly forwards, and slipped her hand into his, squeezing it. 

“Do you remember her?” he asked, voice hoarse.   
“Just that night. And then, only because of the Dementors.” Harry responded apologetically. 

He squeezed her hand back.  
“I didn't even know what they looked like. Not until Hagrid gave me a photo album.”

“Your aunt -?” he seemed to think better of the question and didn't continue it.   
Harry’s eyes felt itchy, and she shook her head. “She said they were drunks, that got killed in a car crash. She said they didn't want me.” a small part of her, even still, wondered if this might be true. The itch had become a sting, and she blinked away at the tears that threatened to fall. Severus shifted his grasp so that his fingers were laced between her own. 

“She came to visit me when she found out she was pregnant with you,” Severus spoke into the vacuum her words had created. Harry became unusually still with focus, clearly savouring the conversation. “I'd never seen her so excited. She wanted you more than anything.”  
Harry pulled her hand from his, and turned, so she could swipe away at the tears blurring her vision.  
She felt his hand on her shoulder, and choked back a sob, hand over her mouth.

His hand slipped from her shoulder. “It's alright to be vulnerable sometimes, Harry,” he spoke in an almost-whisper. “I want to know.” when she didn't respond, he spoke again. “Perhaps we should call it a night.”

That got a response: Harry whirled around “No! I-no. I need to learn this.”  
She spoke with a tone of urgency, her expression one of open desperation and so, against his better judgement, Severus conceded.   
“Alright, once more.” and then out of curiosity, “Tell me, what do you feel when I enter your mind?”

She explained how she felt memories pulled to the forefront of her mind.   
“And what of my presence?”   
Harry shrugged; “I hadn't really noticed.”

“Try to feel for it this time, and if you're able to find it, push me out.”

Harry steeled herself and nodded. 

McGonagall was looming over her in her first year, before the sorting.

Lupin was teaching them about Grindylows. 

/Wait, she was supposed to find Severus’s presence, wasn't she? She kept finding herself distracted by memories./

There was Dobby, handing her a slimy ball of gillyweed. 

/She could feel it, his presence, only distantly - like seeing something in the very periphery of her vision, that moved as she turned her head. Trying to hold her awareness of his presence was like trying to grasp at water./

Fawkes, bursting into flames in Dumbledore’s office as Harry stumbled backward, startled. 

/She pushed at Severus with her mind, and he pushed back harder. The one benefit of this, was that it allowed her to feel him more acutely./

The basilisk slithering toward her, at an alarming rate, as she sprinted through the chamber of secrets.

/She shoved harder, and from a great distance, felt sweat beading on her forehead, and with it, came the realisation that she had sensation, and thus probably control of her physical body./

She was sprinting down the black tiled corridor, arms outstretched, straining towards the door at the very end. 

She was plummeting through the air, fingers straining for the snitch and then she was standing in their Chambers, panting from exertion, her wand held aloft. 

“Good! A little unorthodox, but you did push me out.” he had his hand pressed to his neck, and Harry didn't miss his wince of pain or the strain in his voice. 

“I hurt you?”   
He released the hold on his neck, which, to Harry's alarm, was swelling rapidly   
“A stinging hex. Unexpected, but effective.” 

Her eyebrows drew down in concern.   
He cast the antihex, and the swollen welt went down almost immediately. 

“I expect you to use any means necessary if the Dark Lord tries to invade your mind.” he said, breaking her off before she could apologise. “As I said, you did well.” he stared at her significantly, until she conceded, and nodded her head.   
“We do perhaps need to teach you some subtlety so that he doesn't know you are trying to shield your mind, but I think we're done for the night.”

XXX 

As Harry settled into bed that night, Severus came in and leant against the wall, arms crossed. “How are you feeling?” he asked.  
“Better.” she responded. It wasn’t a lie; she felt worlds better than yesterday if a little drained from this evening's magical exertions.   
“I need to see how the healing is coming along.” Severus came forwards “I need to check if it’s still symptomatically significant, if it's still communicable.” Harry noticed that he held a jar of ointment in his hands.

She sighed heavily, hating that he’d seen her at all, nevermind that he’d seen her as many times as he had. She metamorphosed. She still had some marks from the dragon pox. Severus began casting some unusual spells and charms over her. He examined some of the marks closely.   
“Definitely an improvement. You'll take tomorrow off, but then you can go back to class.” he paused - “Harry, these will scar.” Harry closed her eyes - what were a few more scars. And then, surprisingly: “I can prevent the scarring with this.” he held up the vial. “This may even help to reduce some of the scarring you already have.”  
Harry cringed at the thought of wasting potions for purely cosmetic purposes. Severus seemed to read her mind: “Scarring can sometimes restrict movement if it’s over a joint for example.” he glanced at the burn scarring over her arm. She moved it under the duvet, and looked away, ashamed. “Scars can also cause pain a nerve is compressed by the scar tissue.” She nodded - she was all too familiar with that particular form of pain - a few of her worse scars niggled or ached almost constantly. It had become so much a part of her, that she didn’t really think on it. 

“Do you want to use this? You can say no, Harry.” he questioned. Harry nodded. “I- yes I want it.” she said.   
“Would you like to put it on, or shall I?” He prompted.

Harry looked down at herself, and then quickly away. She hated how she looked - made a point of avoiding looking at herself too closely, especially when her glamour or metamorph-whatevers were down.   
She couldn’t even imagine spreading the stuff over the ugly scar on her arm. “You can.” she said hurriedly before she could lose her nerve.

XXX

Severus was tentative, cautious in the way that he handled this. It had been a great shock to him that Harry wanted him to do this. He had expected her to want to do this entirely without him. 

“May I? He gestured towards the bed and Harry shifted over, giving him a place to sit. 

He licked his lips, mouth dry with anxiety. “I could start with your arms?” he said, reaching to pull back the duvet. 

“No! - I - no.” she pulled away, instinctively, and flushed crimson. Did she not want him to do this after all? 

She was forcing herself to relax, that much was clear. Breathing deeply, her eyes squeezed shut against rejection: “Maybe my stomach.” her voice was tinny with nervousness. 

“Alright.” Severus responded, relieved. “Perhaps you should lie on your back then?” he asked, for she was still on her side.   
For Salazar’s sake, he knew he had to tread lightly, but why was he acting like a green teenager. He'd done this sort of thing for hundreds of students. This was no different.   
Except, it was. 

Harry pulled off the blankets, and flipped onto her back, turning her face away from him.   
He eased up the hem of her pajama shirt, as high as he could, while still maintaining her modesty, and unscrewed the jar. 

He spread the stuff with firm, impersonal fingers, not wanting Harry to feel unsettled.  
He found himself sickened by the number of scars, and for many of them, their severity. How anyone could do this to another human being, let alone a child, he couldn’t even comprehend.   
He took special care around the pockmarks making sure to cover them completely, not wanting to hurt her, or add to her innumerable scars by leaving any out.   
It took ages for Harry to allow the tension to leave her muscles. 

She winced in pain in places, and squirmed under his touch, for it must be ticklish, but she never pulled away. “Tell me if it hurts, and I'll stop.” he would remind her. She never did ask him to stop, even though he was certain some of it must have been agony. 

He stopped before getting close to her chest, telling her that she could apply the ointment in the more private places. 

He did her legs next. There wasn't much scarring, just signs of dragon pox. He stopped just above her knees, again because he wanted her to be comfortable. 

When it came time to do her arms, Harry became uneasy, turning her face to look at him.   
“It doesn't feel nice.” she warned, and for a moment, Severus thought she was saying that rubbing on the ointment was painful, or uncomfortable. But then: “Are you sure you sure you want to touch it? ”   
He followed the train of where she'd rapidly glanced, to the burn scar on her arm. She was embarrassed. 

The impersonal detachment with which he'd governed the rest of his actions, while topically applying the ointment, shifted.   
Without hesitation, he took her arm, touching it more with reverence than with caution.   
“It's a scar. It tells a story.” he told her, spreading the clove-scented paste. “I see these scars, and I see a young woman who survived close to unbeatable odds. I see your strength, and your compassion, and your ability to forgive. Your scars aren't ugly, and they certainly aren't shameful.”  
She nodded her head uncertainly, as though in agreement, but she still wouldn't look at them.   
“Look at them Harry.” she looked at him, and he kept his expression soft, his gaze trained on her face, as though to convey his affection, and then he looked at her arm, his expression never changing.   
Without forethought, she followed his warm gaze.   
“There's nothing shameful here.” he repeated, and thankfully, she began to relax once more. 

Once done with her arms, he had her turn over onto her stomach.  
He pulled up her shirt once more, and the tension that had been building, the resentment he felt towards the Dursleys, increased exponentially at the sight that greeted him. 

The scars that crisscrossed her back were faint but innumerable.   
He pushed down his rage, certain that Harry would misinterpret it.   
He spread the ointment up over her shoulders blind, for his hands were now under the part of the shirt that he could shift no higher.   
He watched as her hands fisted in the sheets, and she hummed contentedly.   
“Tha’ feels nice.” she mumbled into the mattress. 

If Severus spent a little more time on her back, it was a total coincidence, he told himself. 

He tugged down her shirt, and moved her thick locks of red hair, to get better access to her neck, and started adding ointment. The scars here were few, so he sought out pockmarks.   
She tensed noticeably when he smoothed the hair away from behind her ears, and Severus froze, feeling his stomach plummet through the floor. 

Behind her ear, in carefully precise white scarring, was the word ‘Freak’.   
Harry pushed his hands away, turning over, tugging at her hair self-consciously to cover the scar.   
She supported herself on her elbows, rigid and alert, covering the scar, and stared at his chest, not quite able to meet his gaze.   
“Harry -” his voice broke over the word. 

She forced herself to relax, assuming a lax posture, her hand falling from her ear. She plastered an entirely misplaced smile on her face that left Severus feeling uneasy. 

“Dudley and I had gotten these temporary tattoo papers from school. My aunt helped him put his on. When my uncle offered to help me with mine, I was really surprised.” Severus head swam. Please, no. “He gave me this instead. Said it was better because it was more permanent. Said it suited me. It's stupid, really.” she said it like it was an amusing anecdote, but the slight quaver in her voice told him a different story. 

Severus’ pulse thumped an erratic staccato, rage boiling in his blood. He had to calm down. His jaw creaked from the tense way he clenched it, to keep from screaming at the sheer malice of it all. 

He moved toward her without premeditation, and she pulled herself back, reflexively tensing.   
Harry sat frozen, as he wrapped his arms around her, more to ground himself than anything else. His over-large hands covered the entirety of the back of her head and his other her lower back. Severus’s muscles trembled violently with the effort of not squeezing tighter, holding her closer, as though to subsume her, so the world couldn't harm her.   
She didn't hold him back. She was rigid with confusion and uncertainty, her hands at her sides. 

He reacquainted himself, for the first time in decades with the unfamiliar wet heat, and salty tang of his own tears. 

“Severus?” Harry's voice spoke into his horrified silence. 

“Azkaban.” he responded, his tone full of fury. “If I don't get to kill them, if I don't get to-” his voice was gruff with emotion “To torture them for what they have done - then I get to drag them to Azkaban.” 

“Severus, you're hurting me.” Harry spoke, voice strained. 

Severus released her immediately, and she pulled far away. She rubbed at her scalp, from where he'd apparently been tugging at her hair. 

She watched him warily for a few moments, and then, to his surprise, she came closer again. She lay right next to him and, with tentative, halting motions, thumbed the drying tear tracks on his cheeks.   
She looked at him calmly. “Alright.” she said. “Azkaban.” and then she laid her head on his chest and settled more comfortably against his side.   
Severus felt as though in a dream. He was afraid if he moved, this would all disappear, that Harry would vanish, for surely, this couldn't be real. 

Eventually, when the hammering of his heart slowed, he wrapped her in a disbelieving embrace. Her breathing evened out, and he allowed himself to be dragged into a fitful sleep

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you enjoy the chapter?  
> You know what to do ;P

**Author's Note:**

> Please let me know what you think! Reviews, Favorites and Follows are always welcome!   
> xxx


End file.
